Here I Shall Rule
by Drackner Clawrus
Summary: Josh visits a different world but he can’t quite break through the bonds of its reality after destroying one dimension, so he corrupts another being to help him get through, guess who the lucky candidate is. DARK HARRY, NO SLASH. TempDiscon
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Harry Potter and the Philosophers' Stone, J.K. Rowling does, I am not making any money off this fic, just having fun messing around with Harry Potters Life and inserting a friend of mine into the story. The Here I shall Rule fic originally on this account I have taken off and replaced with this as I ran out of Ideas and just left it sitting there for months. Most of the prologue is similar to the JKR's first book with minor notable changes. Enjoy people and to my close friends may you laugh at Josh's minor involvement as he attempts to corrupt Harry into inciting chaos.

**Disclaimer.2**: I do not own anything from the Resident Evil Movies I am merely borrowing the various plot lines and possibly a few of the characters. This is currently **NOT** a Zombie fic.

**Note**: I have re-written the Prologue and shortened it down due to a review by **World **hopefully a brief summary glossing over the details anyone who reads HPFF should know would be a better use of this chapters time, but I would like to point out that I only started this to begin with as a bit of fun that a friend and I had a competition over, who could write the most amusing, well for lack of a better context Mary-sue fic but instead of inserting ourselves into the stories we inserted each other. This fic has evolved a little further than just that but I just wanted to say if you were interested in reading a good dark Harry fic I doubt this will ever be up to the standard you or even I like reading, needless to say I shall still try. Also I make a few references to possible crossovers while still in the Harry Potter verse.

**Previously** on "Here I shall be God": Josh unexpectedly found himself in the World of Naruto, Naruto pissed him off and Josh managed to somehow absorb his PSP into his chest. He now has access to a lot of the powers the anime characters on the 2GB memory card had he has so far absorbed the basic powers of Tetsuo from Akira and Alucard from Hellsing. Josh then destroyed the three main characters in the Naruto verse causing the entire Naruto dimension to collapse in on itself. He tried to arrive in the Negima verse but managed to fall half way into the Harry Potter verse instead he is possessing a corner of the horcrux in Harry and whispers to him in his dreams attempting to corrupted Harry enough so that Harry will free him.

Here I Shall Rule

PROLOGUE

THE BOY WHO LIVED - TO RULE

The Dursely family were muggles, norms, non-magic, humans. They embodied every entity that had at one time or another thought about wiping the world of humans or a wizard/mage/sorceress wiping the world of non-magic beings. Mr Dursely ran a company that made Drills he had being doing so since his boss _retired _last year after a car crashed into him at such force it took out both his legs and he broke his spine, paralyzed he was forced to retire, strangely enough the day this happened Vernon Dursely had been passed over for a promotion he had been expecting.

His Wife was the personification of what happens when a woman is allowed to stay home and spy on the neighbours all day when not looking after her _small _son. The Durselys son was a fat piggy little boy who resembled a growing beach ball more everyday, his mother and father thought him adorable. The neighbours shuddered when they saw the little terror.

One morning as Vernon got into his company-paid-for car he saw to his horror that the streets were full of gay weirdo's wearing cloaks of all colours, he drove on beeping at them to get out of his way while muttering obscenities under his breath.

Once he got to work he resumed his usual schedule of tormenting his workforce, for just about every thing he could think of. He enjoyed his morning and managed to forget everything about the cloaked weirdo's and he might have thought nothing more on the subject if he hadn't decided to go out on his lunch break for a sandwich. While heading back to his office he past a group of cloak-wielding weirdo's happily waving what looked like wands around laughing and smiling. As he passed them he caught a glimmer of their conversation:

"The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard yes, their son, Harry, defeated him, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!"

Vernon Dursley stopped dead. Fear flooded through him. He looked back at the whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it. It wouldn't do to be associated with riff-raff like that. He hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, he worked solid inside his office for the rest of the day. He hurried to his car and set off for home, hoping he was imagining things. Trying to concentrate on the deal he was brokering for the Umbrella cooperation. They wanted him to sell them a Drill cable of digging miles underground and set up an underground research facility. Settling his thought on this happy event he managed to calm himself down this was until he pulled into the driveway he notice their was a stiff looking cat eyeing his house. It looked rather grumpy, after telling it to "shoo" and being promptly ignored by the dumb animal he went inside to rest for the day and try once more to forget the unnaturalness he had been subjected to. As night fell and the light at number 4 died, a man appeared, with a pop on the corner the cat had been watching, when not glaring at the house. The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed dangerously.

The man's name was Albus Dumbledore.

Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome. He flicked open a silver cigarette lighter that he was holding and held it up in the air, he clicked it. Every street lamp went out with a little pop as the lights soared into his lighter where a flame should have appeared. The only lights left on the whole street were two tiny green pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat.

"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall." He asked in what he seemed to believe made him appear an old and grandfatherly-like figure.

He turned to smile at the cat, The cat leapt off the wall and in mid jump the cat features shifted to that of a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing circular glasses exactly

the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She was wearing a red and gold cloak. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun, with Chinese style hair pins holding them the bun in place.

"I do hope you haven't been there all day When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here."

The woman sniffed angrily.

"Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right," she said impatiently.

"You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no -- even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news."

She jerked her head back at the Dursleys' dark living-room window.

"I heard it. Flocks of owls... shooting stars.... Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent -- I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense."

"You can't blame them," said Dumbledore gently, again attempting to pull of the grandfatherly figure.

"We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years."

"I know that," said Professor McGonagall irritably.

"But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors."

She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on.

"A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?"

"It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore.

"We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?"

"A what?"

"A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of"

"No, thank you," said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't think this was the moment for lemon drops, especially ones laced with claming draught.

"As I say, even if You-Know-Who has gone -"

"My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this _'You- Know-Who'_ nonsense -- for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: Voldemort."

McGonagall flinched at the name, but Dumbledore seemed not to notice.

"It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who.' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name.

"I know you haven 't, said McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admiring.

"But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know- oh, all right, Voldemort, was frightened of."

"You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have."

"Only because you're too -- well -- noble to use them."

"It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs."

McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said,

"Cut the crap Albus. The owls are nothing next to the rumours that are flying around. I want to know if its true, what they say finally

stopped him?"

It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever "everyone" was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer.

"What they're saying," she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumor is that Lily and James are -- are -- that they're -- dead. "

Dumbledore bowed his head. McGonagall gasped.

"Lily and James... I can't believe it... I didn't want to believe it... but what about the fidilus …. Oh, Albus..."

Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. "I know... I know..." he said heavily now attempting to look sad, the glint in his eye was starting to give away his smugness thought, luckily McGonagall.

McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on.

"That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potter's son, Harry. But – he couldn't. He couldn't kill that little boy. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harry Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke -- and that's why he's gone".

Dumbledore nodded solemnly.

"It's -- it's true?" faltered Professor McGonagall.

"After all he's done... all the people he's killed... he couldn't kill a little boy? It's just astounding... of all the things to stop him... but how in the name of heaven did Harry survive?" She paused for a minute. "Do you think… maybe … maybe Tom changed his mind, he saw a bit of himself in the boy, did he stop because he wanted to change? She asked hopefully.

"No!!" Dumbledore stated stubbornly. "We can only guess how Harry survived but Voldermort will never reclaim his past..," said Dumbledore. "We may never know how Harry blocked the curse."

"Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?"

"Yes," said Professor McGonagall. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here, of all places?"

"I've come to bring Harry to his aunt and uncle. They're the only family he has left now."

"You don't mean -- you can't mean the people who live here?" cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four.

"Dumbledore -- you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son -- I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Harry Potter come and live here!"

"It's the best place for him," said Dumbledore firmly.

"His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he's older. I've written them a letter."

"A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall, wondering if Dumbledore really was going senile.

"Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand him! He'll be famous – a legend -- I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Harry Potter day in the future -- there will be books written about Harry -- every child in our world will know his name!"

"Exactly," said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses.

"It would be enough to turn any boy's head. Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won't even remember! Can't you see how much better off he'll be, growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it?"

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, "No I will not allow it, besides I'm his Godmother if Sirius wasn't available it falls to me."

Dumbledoor sighed, "Then I'm sorry Minevera" He quickly placed three fingers on her forehead and thought one word "Obliviate".

A few seconds later McGonagall began to talk normally again as if the previous slip in conversation had not ever occurred. "Yes -- yes, you're right, of course. But how is the boy

getting here, Dumbledore?"

She asked him, with new adoration in her eyes.

"Hagrid's bringing him."

"You think it -- wise -- to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"

I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore.

"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor

McGonagall grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to enjoy raising '_harmless_' monsters as pets -- what was that?"

A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky – and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.

If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets.

"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding surprisingly relieved and he was, he really wished he didn't need Hagrid for as much of the _dirty_ work as he did it would make things so much easier.

"At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"

"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke.

"Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got him, sir."

"No problems, were there?"

"No, sir -- house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around as der wards collapsed. He fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol."

Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning faintly glowing ominously green, the colour of the Avada Kedavda curse.

"Is that where -?" whispered Professor McGonagall.

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "He'll have that scar forever."

"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"

"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. I mean I did get it in my youth when one of my friends tried a lightning charm on the map along with a shrinking charm and burnt the map into my knee as a scar, well -- give him here, Hagrid -- we'd better get this over with."

Dumbledore smugly took Harry in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys' house.

"Could I -- could I say good-bye to him, sir?" asked Hagrid. – Dumbledore mentally groaned at all the soppiness - Hagrid bent his great, shaggy head over Harry and gave him what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.

"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "you'll wake the Muggles!"

"S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. "But I c-c-can't stand it -- Lily an' James dead -- an' poor little Harry off ter live with Muggles -"

"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found,"

Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid Harry gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Harry's blankets, and then came back to the other two. For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.

"Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."

"Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I'll be takin' Sirius his bike back. G'night, Professor McGonagall -- Professor Dumbledore, sir."

Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.

"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply.

Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver lighter. He clicked it once, and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street.

He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four.

"I'm sorry Harry, but this is for the greater good, you will grow up beaten, abused and with no real happiness, but it is necessary." he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone, leaving only three lingering words.

"My little weapon…."

Meanwhile wizards, squibs and magical creatures of all sorts meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices:

"To Harry Potter - the boy who lived!"

---

Nearly ten years had passed since the Dursleys had woken up to find their nephew on the front step, but Privet Drive had hardly changed at all on the outside or really visibly on the inside.

The sun rose on the same tidy front gardens and lit up the brass number four on the Dursleys' front door; it crept into their living room, which was almost exactly the same as it had been on the night when Mr. Dursley had seen that fateful news report about the owls flocking in broad daylight all over Britain. Only the photographs on the mantelpiece really showed how much time had passed.

Ten years ago, there had been lots of pictures of what looked like a large pink beach ball wearing different-colored bonnets -- but Dudley Dursley was no longer a baby, and now the photographs showed a large blond boy riding his first bicycle, on a carousel at the fair, playing a computer game with his father, being hugged and kissed by his mother.

However the room held no sign at all that another boy lived in the house, too.

Yet Harry Potter was still there, asleep at the moment, tired from a painfull beating the night before, but not for long. His Aunt was awake and it was her shrill voice that made the first noise of the day.

"Up! Get up! Now!"

Harry woke with a start. His aunt rapped on the door again.

"Up!" she screeched. Harry heard her walking toward the kitchen and then the sound of the frying pan being put on the stove.

He rolled onto his back and tried to remember the dream he had been having. It had been a strange one a man dressed in red with a scary smile had told him that his body was forfeit and that he should surrender his power for he was coming to play with reality.

He tried to remember the man's name but all he could remember was '**Josh**', and surely a monster like that couldn't have such a simple innocent name as Josh that.

Suddenly there was a loud bang on the door next to him his aunt infernal aunt was back outside the door.

"Are you up yet freak?" she demanded.

"Nearly," said Harry.

"Well, get a move on, I want you to look after the bacon. And don't you dare let it burn, I want everything perfect on Duddy's birthday."

Harry groaned.

"What did you say boy?" his aunt snapped through the door.

Quickly to avoid more problems Harry denied his Aunt the pleasure of punishing him for a simple sigh. "Nothing, nothing..."

Dear _little_, perfect Dudders's birthday – how could he have forgotten? – Oh wait very easily. It was not something Harry looked forward to every year. Slowly he raised himself from his make-shift bed and began to look for his socks, as he was already in his pyjamas/clothes a grey blue shirt faded completely that looked more like a rag than anything else and baggy trousers two sizes to big for him as they had belonged to his cousin.

Carefully lifting a cute spider off one of them he placed it on the shelf with his few trivial possessions. Harry unlike most people was not squeamish about spiders, he supposed this came from sharing his cupboard with them for their many generations. Sometimes he thought he could understand what they were saying from the little clicks their pincers made, but Harry chocked it up at him being a little insane. The constant abuse from his _relatives _didn't help Harry maintain his sanity. Having weekly dreams of a monster butchering others wasn't very useful either, so if something strange happened around him he tended to chalk it up to his over-active imagination. It was one of the few things living with the Dursley's had not beaten out of him, his imagination was all that gave him hope.

Another reason to avoid Dudley's birthdays was that Harry Hunting was aloud on these days and most of Dudley's friends, along with Uncle Vernon joined in to chase the unnatural freak around and then administer the yearly special beating. Aunt Petunia joined in occasionally by throwing something (usually an ugly Christmas present) made of glass at him and complaining when he didn't catch it, then complaining when it broke showering him with glass or china – yes Aunt Petunia was one of the worst kinds of whiners.

When he wasn't doing his chores or going to school, taking a punishment beating or getting what he _deserved_ he lived in his cupboard. This made Harry endure a cold and lonely life. That was the final reason that he didn't like Dudley's birthdays, well to be honest he didn't like the Dursley's at all.

Once Harry was fully dressed he went down the hall into the kitchen. The table was almost hidden beneath all Dudley's birthday presents. It looked as though Dudley had gotten the new computer he wanted, not to mention the second television and the racing bike. Exactly why Dudley wanted a racing bike was a mystery to Harry, as Dudley was so enormously fat and hated exercise -- unless of course it involved punching somebody.

Dudley's favourite punching bag was Harry, but he couldn't often catch him with out a lot of help or having worked out an area to trap Harry in first. Although Harry didn't really look it, he was very fast. Perhaps it had something to do with living in a dark cupboard, but Harry had always been small and skinny for his age. He looked even smaller and skinnier than he really was because all he had to wear were old clothes of Dudley's, and Dudley was about two times bigger than he was.

Harry had a thin face, black hair, and bright green eyes. He wore round glasses held together with a lot of Scotch tape because of all the times Dudley had punched him on the nose.

The only thing Harry liked about his own appearance was a very thin scar on his forehead that was shaped like a bolt of lightning. He had had it as long as he could remember, and the first question he could ever remember asking his Aunt Petunia was how he had gotten it.

"In the car crash when your filthy parents died," she had said. "And don't ask questions."

Don't ask questions -- that was the first rule for a quiet life with the Dursleys, but he always wondered that if he got it in a car crash then why was it able to glow green when he had wounds caused by his relatives, why would all the wounds heal instantly while the scar glowed, and why was he able to use it like a nightlight when he wanted to read a book in his cupboard at night and couldn't risk his relatives seeing the light from the bulb. For surprisingly only he and the spiders that dropped to the floor in a kneeling stance no one else could see the light.

Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen as Harry was turning over the bacon.

"Comb your hair boy!" he barked, by way of a morning greeting, this for Uncle Vernon was extremely polite and civil, his Uncle must be in a good mood.

About once a week, Uncle Vernon looked over the top of his newspaper and shouted that Harry needed a haircut. Harry must have had more haircuts than the rest of the boys in his class put together, but it made no difference, his hair simply grew that way -- all over the place.

Harry was frying eggs by the time Dudley arrived in the kitchen with his mother. Dudley looked a lot like Uncle Vernon. Aunt Petunia often said that Dudley looked like a baby angel -- Harry often said that Dudley looked like a pig in a wig. Harry put the plates of egg and bacon on the table, which was difficult as there wasn't much room. Dudley, meanwhile, was counting his presents. His face fell.

"Thirty-six," he said, looking up at his mother and father. "That's two less than last year." Harry was surprised He had managed to count that high at all – let alone with out a calculator to help him add 5 again and again until he got the number – Harry usually did Dudley's homework for him.

"Darling, you haven't counted Auntie Marge's present, see, it's here under this big one from Mommy and Daddy."

"All right, thirty-seven then," said Dudley, going red in the face, either from anger or strain from using his pea brain.

Harry, who could see a huge Dudley tantrum coming on, began consuming his scraps of food as fast as possible in case Dudley turned the table over in a frequently common childish tantrum.

Aunt Petunia obviously scented danger, too, because she said quickly, "And we'll buy you another two presents while we're out today. How's that, popkin? Two more presents. Is that all right''

Dudley thought for a moment. It looked like hard work. Finally he said slowly, "So I'll have thirty ... thirty..."

"Thirty-nine, sweetums," said Aunt Petunia.

"Oh." Dudley sat down heavily and grabbed the nearest parcel. "All right then."

Uncle Vernon chuckled. "Little tyke wants his money's worth, just like his father. 'Atta boy, Dudley!" He ruffled Dudley's hair. Harry tried not to throw up in revulsion.

At that moment the telephone rang and Aunt Petunia went to answer it while Harry and Uncle Vernon watched Dudley unwrap the racing bike, a video camera, a remote control airplane, sixteen new computer games, and a VCR. He was ripping the paper off a gold wristwatch when Aunt Petunia came back from the telephone looking both angry and worried.

"Bad news, Vernon," she said. "Mrs. Figg's broken her leg. She can't take it."

She jerked her head in Harry's direction.

Dudley's mouth fell open in horror, but Harry's heart gave a leap. Every year on Dudley's birthday, his parents took him and a friend out for the day, to adventure parks, hamburger restaurants, or the movies.

Every year, Harry was left behind with Mrs. Figg, a mad old lady who lived two streets away. Harry hated it there. The whole house smelled of cabbage and Mrs. Figg made him look at photographs of all the cats she'd ever owned, some of them looked so ugly he was sure they must be a cross between something else-altogether.

"Now what?" said Aunt Petunia, looking furiously at Harry as though he'd planned this.

Harry knew he ought to feel sorry that Mrs. Figg had broken her leg, but it wasn't easy when he reminded himself it would be a whole year before he had to look at all her little furry monsters again.

"We could phone Marge," Uncle Vernon suggested.

"Don't be silly, Vernon, she hates the boy." Harry desperately hoped they didn't, Aunt Marge's dislike for him was seconded for Harry's infernal loathing for her and her dog Ripper.

The Dursley's often spoke about Harry like this, as though he wasn't there -- or rather, as though he was something very nasty that couldn't understand them, like a slug.

"What about Yvonne?"

"On vacation in Majorca," snapped Aunt Petunia.

"You could just leave me here," Harry put in hopefully (he'd be able to watch what he wanted on television for a change and maybe even have a go on Dudley's computer).

Aunt Petunia looked as though she'd just swallowed a lemon, then again it wasn't that different from her usual look and if it wasn't for the hatred burning in her eyes as she sneered at him, Harry wouldn't have noticed the difference.

"And come back and find the house in ruins?" she snarled.

"I won't blow up the house," said Harry, beside if he was to blow it up he'd make sure they were inside first, the Dursley's continued to ignore him.

"I suppose we could take him to the zoo," said Aunt Petunia slowly, "... and leave him in the car...."

"That car's new, he's not sitting in it alone...."

Dudley began to cry loudly. In fact, he wasn't really crying -- it had been years since he'd really cried -- but he knew that if he screwed up his face and wailed, his mother would give him anything he wanted. The one time Harry had cried he had received a beating for making too much noise and had his arm held on the hot-pan of the electric cooker.

"Dinky Duddydums, don't cry, Mummy won't let it spoil your special day!" she cried, flinging her arms around him.

"I... don't... want... him... t-t-to come!" Dudley yelled between huge, pretend sobs. "He always sp- spoils everything!" He shot Harry a nasty grin through the gap in his mother's arms.

Just then, the doorbell rang -- "Oh, good Lord, they're here!" said Aunt Petunia frantically -- and a moment later, Dudley's best friend, Piers Polkiss, walked in with his mother. Piers was a scrawny boy with a face like a rat. He was usually the one who held people's arms behind their backs while Dudley hit them.

Dudley stopped pretending to cry at once, and frantically wiped his face to remove all trace of the fake tears.

Half an hour later, Harry, who couldn't believe his luck, was sitting in the back of the Dursleys' car with Piers and Dudley, on the way to the zoo for the first time in his life. His aunt and uncle hadn't been able to think of anything else to do with him, but before they'd left, Uncle Vernon had taken Harry aside.

"I'm warning you," he had said, putting his large purple face right up close to Harry's, "I'm warning you now, boy -- any funny business, anything at all -- and you'll be in that cupboard from now until Christmas."

"I'm not going to do anything," said Harry, "honestly…"

But Uncle Vernon didn't believe him. No one ever did. The problem was, strange things often happened around Harry and it was just no good telling the Dursley's he didn't make them happen.

But today, nothing was going to go wrong. It was even worth being with Dudley and Piers to be spending the day somewhere that wasn't school, his cupboard, or Mrs. Figg's cabbage-smelling living room.

It was a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families. The Dursleys bought Dudley and Piers large chocolate ice creams at the entrance and then, because the smiling lady in the van had asked Harry what he wanted before they could hurry him away, they bought him a cheap lemon ice pop.

It wasn't bad, either, Harry thought, licking it as they watched a gorilla scratching its head who looked remarkably like Dudley, except that it wasn't blond. Harry had the best morning he'd had in a long time. He was careful to walk a little way apart from the Dursleys so that Dudley and Piers, who were starting to get bored with the animals by lunchtime, wouldn't fall back on their favourite hobby of hitting him. They ate in the zoo restaurant, and when Dudley had a tantrum because his Mars Ice cream didn't have enough cream on top, Uncle Vernon bought him another one and Harry was allowed to finish the first.

Harry felt, afterward, that he should have known it was all too good to last.

After lunch they went to the reptile house. It was cool and dark in there, with lit windows all along the walls. Behind the glass, all sorts of cute lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone.

Dudley and Piers wanted to see huge, poisonous cobras and thick, man-crushing pythons. Dudley quickly found the largest snake in the place. It could have wrapped its body twice around Uncle Vernon's car and crushed it into a trash can -- but at the moment it didn't look in the mood. In fact, it was fast asleep. Harry assumed it couldn't possibly be dangerous it was just so cute, most so-called dangerous creatures were just grossly misunderstood in his opinion, while he was pondering on this his cousin had pressed his nose close to the class to stare at the snake.

"Make it move," he whined at his father. Uncle Vernon tapped on the glass, but the snake didn't budge.

"Do it again," Dudley ordered. Uncle Vernon rapped the glass smartly with his knuckles, but the snake just snoozed on.

"He's asleep." Harry spoke quickly trying to distract them he wanted to gaze at the magnificent creature some more, and if it woke up it would probably slither into a corner to hide from annoying prying eyes.

"This is boring," Dudley moaned. He shuffled away.

Harry moved in front of the tank and looked intently at the snake. He wouldn't have been surprised if it had died of boredom itself – no company except stupid people drumming their fingers on the glass trying to disturb it all day long. It was worse than having a cupboard as a bedroom, where the only visitor was Aunt Petunia hammering on the door

to wake you up; at least he got to visit the rest of the house.

The snake suddenly opened its beady eyes. Slowly, very slowly, it raised its head until its eyes were on a level with Harry's.

It winked, or possibly blinked in confusion. It was like the snake was puzzled but seemed to recognise him.

Harry stared. Then he looked quickly around to see if anyone was watching. They weren't. He looked back at the snake and winked, too.

The snake jerked its head toward Uncle Vernon and Dudley, then raised its eyes to the ceiling. It gave Harry a look that said quite plainly:

"I get that all the time.

"I know," Harry murmured through the glass, though he wasn't sure the snake could hear him. "It must be really annoying."

The snake nodded vigorously.

"Where do you come from, anyway?" Harry asked.

The snake jabbed its tail at a little sign next to the glass. Harry peered at it.

**Boa Constrictor, Brazil.**

"Was it nice there?"

The boa constrictor jabbed its tail at the sign again and Harry read on:

This specimen was bred in the zoo. "Oh, I see -- so you've never been to Brazil?"

As the snake shook its head, a deafening shout behind Harry made both of them jump.

"DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT IT'S DOING!"

Dudley came waddling toward them as fast as he could.

"Out of the way, you," he said, punching Harry in the ribs. Caught by surprise, Harry fell hard on the concrete floor.

What came next happened so fast no one saw how it happened -- one second, Piers and Dudley were leaning right up close to the glass, the next, they had fallen past is into the tank with screams of horror.

Harry sat up and gasped; the glass front of the boa constrictor's tank had turned faded green then vanished. The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out onto the floor. People throughout the reptile house screamed and started running for the exits.

As the snake slid swiftly past him, Harry could have sworn a low, hissing voice said,

"Brazil, here I come.... Thanksss, amigo."

The keeper of the reptile house was in shock. "But the glass?" he said wonderingly "Where did the glass go?"

The zoo director himself made Aunt Petunia a cup of strong, sweet tea while he apologized over and over again. Piers and Dudley could only gibber like the two monkeys they were.

As far as Harry had seen, the snake hadn't done anything except snap playfully at their heels as it passed, but by the time they were all back in Uncle Vernon's car, Dudley was telling them how it had nearly bitten off his leg, while Piers was swearing it had tried to squeeze him to death. But worst of all, for Harry at least, was Piers calming down enough to say, "Harry was hissing at it, weren't you, Harry?"

Uncle Vernon waited until Piers was safely out of the house before starting on Harry. He was so angry he could hardly speak. He managed to say, "Go -- cupboard -- stay -- no meals," before he collapsed into a chair, and Aunt Petunia had to run and get him a large brandy.

Harry lay in his dark cupboard much later, wishing he had a watch. He didn't know what time it was and he couldn't be sure the Dursleys were asleep yet. Until they were, he couldn't risk sneaking to the kitchen for some food.

He'd lived with the Dursleys almost ten years, ten miserable years, as long as he could remember, ever since he'd been a baby and his parents had died in that '_car crash_'. He couldn't remember being in the car when his parents had died. Sometimes, when he strained his memory during long hours in his cupboard, he came up with a strange vision: a blinding flash of green light like his scar when it glowed and a burning pain on his forehead while a high cruel laugh sounded in his head.

This, he supposed, was the crash, though he couldn't imagine where all the green light came from, or how it still existed in his scar. He couldn't remember his parents at all.

His aunt and uncle never spoke about them, and of course he was forbidden to ask questions. There were no photographs of them in the house. When he had been younger, Harry had dreamed and dreamed of some unknown relation coming to take him away, but it had never happened; the Dursleys were his only family apart from the spiders he lived with in his cupboard and to be honest they weren't much of conversationalist's.

Yet sometimes he thought (or maybe hoped) that strangers in the street seemed to know him. The weirdest thing about all these he had been greeted or thanked by for no real reason was the way they seemed to vanish the second Harry tried to get a closer look.

At school, Harry had no one. Everybody knew that Dudley's gang hated that odd Harry Potter in his baggy old clothes and broken glasses, and nobody liked to disagree with Dudley's gang.

The escape of the Brazilian boa constrictor earned Harry his longest-ever punishment. By the time he was allowed out of his cupboard again, the summer holidays had started and Dudley had already broken his new video camera, crashed his remote control airplane, and, first time out on his racing bike, knocked down old Mrs. Figg as she crossed Privet

Drive on her crutches, again Harry had tried to feel sorry for her but failed miserably.

Harry was glad school was over, but there was no escaping Dudley's gang, who visited the house every single day. Piers, Dennis, Malcolm, and Gordon were all big and stupid, but as Dudley was the biggest and stupidest of the lot, he was the leader. The rest of them were all quite happy to join in Dudley's favourite sport: Harry Hunting.

This was why Harry spent as much time as possible out of the house, wandering around and thinking about the end of the holidays, where he could see a tiny ray of hope. When September came he would be going off to secondary school and, for the first time in his life, he wouldn't be with Dudley.

Dudley had been accepted at Uncle Vernon's old private school, Smeltings. Piers Polkiss was going there too. Harry, on the other hand, was going to Stonewall High, the local public school. Dudley thought this was very funny.

"They stuff people's heads down the toilet the first day at Stonewall," he told Harry.

"Want to come upstairs and practice?"

"No, thanks," said Harry. "The poor toilet's never had anything as horrible as your head down it -- it might be sick."

Then he ran, before Dudley could work out what he'd said, he needn't have bothered though, his cousin still hadn't figured it out by the next time he saw him. One day in July, Aunt Petunia took Dudley to London to buy his Smeltings uniform, leaving Harry at Mrs. Figg's. Mrs. Figg wasn 't as bad as usual. It turned out she'd broken her leg tripping over one of her cats, and she didn't seem quite as fond of them as before.

She let Harry watch television and gave him a bit of chocolate cake that tasted as though she'd had it for several years. That evening, Dudley paraded around the living room for the family in his brand-new uniform. Smeltings' boys wore maroon tailcoats, orange knickerbockers, and flat straw hats called boaters.

They also carried knobbly sticks, used for hitting each other while the teachers weren't looking. This was supposed to be good training for later life. As he looked at Dudley in his new knickerbockers, Uncle Vernon said gruffly that it was the proudest moment of his life. Aunt Petunia burst into tears and said she couldn't believe it was her Ickle Dudleykins, he looked so handsome and grown-up.

Harry didn't trust himself to speak. He thought two of his ribs might already have cracked from trying not to laugh.

There was a horrible smell in the kitchen the next morning when Harry went in for breakfast. It seemed to be coming from a large metal tub in the sink. He went to have a look. The tub was full of what looked like dirty rags swimming in gray water.

"What's this?" he asked Aunt Petunia. Her lips tightened as they always did if he dared to ask a question.

"Your new school uniform," she said.

Harry looked in the bowl again.

"Oh," he said, "I didn't realize it had to be so wet."

"Don't be stupid," snapped Aunt Petunia. "I'm dyeing some of Dudley's old things gray for you. It'll look just like everyone else's when I've finished."

Harry seriously doubted this, but thought it best not to argue. He sat down at the table and tried not to think about how he was going to look on his first day at Stonewall High -- like he was wearing bits of old elephant skin, probably.

Dudley and Uncle Vernon came in, both with wrinkled noses because of the smell from Harry's new uniform. Uncle Vernon opened his newspaper as usual and Dudley banged his Smelting stick, which he carried everywhere, on the table. They heard the click of the mail slot and flop of letters on the doormat.

"Get the mail, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper.

"Make Harry get it."

"Get the mail, boy."

"Make Dudley get it."

"Poke the freak with your Smelting stick, Dudley."

Harry dodged the Smelting stick and went to get the mail. Three things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister Marge, who was vacationing on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a bill, and -- a letter for Harry.

Harry picked it up and stared at it, his heart twanging like a giant elastic band. No one, ever, in his whole life, had written to him. Who would? He had no friends, no other relatives -- he didn't belong to the library, so he'd never even got rude notes asking for books back. Yet here it was, a letter, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake:

**Mr. H. Potter**

**The Cupboard under the Stairs**

**4 Privet Drive**

**Little Whinging**

**Surrey**

The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald-green ink. There was no stamp. Turning the envelope over, his hand trembling, Harry saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a pretty snake surrounding a large letter H.

"Hurry up, boy!" shouted Uncle Vernon from the kitchen. "What are you doing, checking for letter bombs?" He chuckled at his own joke.

Harry went back to the kitchen, still staring at his letter. He handed Uncle Vernon the bill and the postcard, sat down, and slowly began to open the yellow envelope. Uncle Vernon ripped open the bill, snorted in disgust, and flipped over the postcard.

"Marge's ill," he informed Aunt Petunia. "Ate a funny whelk. --."

"Dad!" said Dudley suddenly. "Dad, Harry's got something!"

Harry was on the point of unfolding his letter, which was written on the same heavy parchment as the envelope, when it was jerked sharply out of his hand by Uncle Vernon.

"That's mine!" said Harry, trying to snatch it back.

"Who'd be writing to you?" sneered Uncle Vernon, shaking the letter open with one hand and glancing at it. His face went from red to green faster than a set of traffic lights. And it didn't stop there. Within seconds it was the grayish white of old porridge.

"P-P-Petunia!" he gasped.

Dudley tried to grab the letter to read it, but Uncle Vernon held it high out of his reach. Aunt Petunia took it curiously and read the first line. For a moment it looked as though she might faint. She clutched her throat and made a choking noise.

"Vernon! Oh my goodness -- Vernon!"

They stared at each other, seeming to have forgotten that Harry and Dudley were still in the room. Dudley wasn't used to being ignored. He gave his father a sharp tap on the head with his Smelting stick.

"I want to read that letter," he said loudly. want to read it," said Harry furiously, "as it's mine."

"Get out, both of you," croaked Uncle Vernon, stuffing the letter back inside its envelope.

Harry didn't move.

I WANT MY LETTER!" he shouted.

"Let me see it!" demanded Dudley.

"OUT!" roared Uncle Vernon, and he took both Harry and Dudley by the scruffs of their necks and threw them into the hall, slamming the kitchen door behind them.

Harry and Dudley promptly had a furious but silent fight over who would listen at the keyhole; Dudley won, so Harry, his glasses dangling from one ear, lay flat on his stomach to listen at the crack between door and floor.

"Vernon," Aunt Petunia was saying in a quivering voice, "look at the address -- how could they possibly know where he sleeps? You don't think they're watching the house?"

"Watching -- spying -- might be following us," muttered Uncle Vernon wildly.

"But what should we do, Vernon? Should we write back? Tell them we don't want --"

Harry could see Uncle Vernon's shiny black shoes pacing up and down the kitchen.

"No," he said finally. "No, we'll ignore it. If they don't get an answer... Yes, that's best... we won't do anything.... "

"But --"

"I'm not having one in the house, Petunia! Didn't we swear when we took him in we'd stamp out that dangerous nonsense?"

That evening when he got back from work, Uncle Vernon did something he'd never done before; he visited Harry in his cupboard.

"Where's my letter?" said Harry, the moment Uncle Vernon had squeezed through the door. "Who's writing to me?"

"No one. it was addressed to you by mistake," said Uncle Vernon shortly. "I have burned it."

"It was not a mistake," said Harry angrily, "it had my cupboard on it."

"SILENCE!" yelled Uncle Vernon, and a couple of spiders fell from the ceiling. He took a few deep breaths and then forced his face into a smile, which looked quite painful.

"Er -- yes, _Harry_ -- about this cupboard. Your aunt and I have been thinking... you're really getting a bit big for it... we think it might be nice if you moved into Dudley's second bedroom.

"Why?" said Harry.

"Don't ask questions!" snapped his uncle. "Take this stuff upstairs, now."

The Dursleys' house had four bedrooms: one for Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, one for visitors (usually Uncle Vernon's sister, Marge), one where Dudley slept, and one where Dudley kept all the toys and things that wouldn't fit into his first bedroom.

It only took Harry one trip upstairs to move everything he owned from the cupboard to this room. He sat down on the bed and stared around him. Nearly everything in here was

broken.

The month-old video camera was lying on top of a small, working tank Dudley had once driven over the next door neighbor's dog; in the corner was Dudley's first-ever television set, which he'd put his foot through when his favorite program had been canceled; there was a large birdcage, which had once held a parrot that Dudley had swapped at school for a real air rifle, which was up on a shelf with the end all bent because Dudley had sat on it. Other shelves were full of books.

They were the only things in the room that looked as though they'd never been touched. From downstairs came the sound of Dudley bawling at his mother, "I don't want him in there... I need that room... make him get out...."

Harry sighed and stretched out on the bed. Yesterday he'd have given anything to be up here. Today he'd rather be back in his cupboard with that letter than up here without it.

Next morning at breakfast, everyone was rather quiet.

Dudley was in shock. He'd screamed, whacked his father with his Smelting stick, been sick on purpose, kicked his mother, and thrown his tortoise through the greenhouse roof, and he still didn't have his room back.

Harry was thinking about this time yesterday and bitterly wishing he'd opened the letter in the hall. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia kept looking at each other darkly.

When the mail arrived, Uncle Vernon, who seemed to be trying to be nice to him, made Dudley go and get it. They heard him banging things with his Smelting stick all the way down the hall. Then he shouted,

"There's another one! 'Mr. H. Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive –"

With a strangled cry, Uncle Vernon leapt from his seat and ran down the hall, Harry right behind him.

Uncle Vernon had to wrestle Dudley to the ground to get the letter from him, which was made difficult by the fact that Harry had grabbed Uncle Vernon around the neck from behind. After a minute of confused fighting, in which everyone got hit a lot by the Smelting stick, Uncle Vernon straightened up, gasping for breath, with Harry's letter clutched in his hand.

"Go to your cupboard -- I mean, your bedroom," he wheezed at Harry.

"Dudley -- go -- just go."

Harry walked round and round his new room. Someone knew he had moved out of his cupboard and they seemed to know he hadn't received his first letter. Surely that meant they'd try again? And this time he'd make sure they didn't fail.

He had a plan. The repaired alarm clock rang at six o'clock the next morning. Harry turned it off quickly and dressed silently. He mustn't wake the Dursleys. He stole downstairs without turning on any of the lights. He was going to wait for the postman on the corner of Privet Drive and get the letters for number four first. His heart hammered as he crept across the dark hall toward the front door –

Harry leapt into the air; he'd trodden on something big and squashy on the doormat -- something alive!

Lights clicked on upstairs and to his horror Harry realized that the big, squashy something had been his uncle's face. Uncle Vernon had been lying at the foot of the front door in a sleeping bag, clearly making sure that Harry didn't do exactly what he'd been trying to do. The only good thing that had come out of this was stepping on his Uncle's face and not receiving an extra beating for it.

His Uncle had merely shouted at Harry for about half an hour and then told him to go and make a cup of tea. Harry shuffled miserably off into the kitchen and by the time he got back, the mail had arrived, right into Uncle Vernon's lap. Harry could see three letters addressed in green ink.

I want --" he began, but Uncle Vernon was tearing the letters into pieces before his eyes. Uncle Vernon didn't go to work that day. He stayed at home and nailed up the mail slot.

"See," he explained to Aunt Petunia through a mouthful of nails, "if they can't deliver them they'll just give up."

"I'm not sure that'll work, Vernon."

"Oh, these people's minds work in strange ways, Petunia, they're not like you and me," said Uncle Vernon, trying to knock in a nail with the piece of fruitcake Aunt Petunia had just brought him.

On Friday, no less than twelve letters arrived for Harry. As they couldn't go through the mail slot they had been pushed under the door, slotted through the sides, and a few even forced through the small window in the downstairs bathroom.

Uncle Vernon stayed at home again. After burning all the letters, he got out a hammer and nails and boarded up the cracks around the front and back doors so no one could go out. He hummed "Tiptoe Through the Tulips" as he worked, and jumped at small noises.

On Saturday, things began to get out of hand. Twenty-four letters to Harry found their way into the house, rolled up and hidden inside each of the two dozen eggs that their very confused milkman had handed Aunt Petunia through the living room window. While Uncle Vernon made furious telephone calls to the post office and the dairy trying to find someone to complain to, Aunt Petunia shredded the letters in her food processor.

"Who on earth wants to talk to you this badly?" Dudley asked Harry in amazement.

On Sunday morning, Uncle Vernon sat down at the breakfast table looking tired and rather ill, but happy.

"No post on Sundays," he reminded them cheerfully as he spread marmalade on his newspapers, "no damn letters today --"

Something came whizzing down the kitchen chimney as he spoke and caught him sharply on the back of the head. Next moment, thirty or forty letters came pelting out of the fireplace like bullets. The Dursleys ducked, but Harry leapt into the air trying to catch one.

"Out! OUT!"

Uncle Vernon seized Harry around the waist and threw him into the hall. When Aunt Petunia and Dudley had run out with their arms over their faces, Uncle Vernon slammed the door shut. They could hear the letters still streaming into the room, bouncing off the walls and floor.

"That does it," said Uncle Vernon, trying to speak calmly but pulling great tufts out of his mustache at the same time. I want you all back here in five minutes ready to leave. We're going away. Just pack some clothes. No arguments!" He looked so dangerous with half his mustache missing that no one dared argue. Ten minutes later they had wrenched their way through the boarded-up doors and were in the car, speeding toward the highway.

Dudley was sniffling in the back seat; his father had hit him round the head for holding them up while he tried to pack his television, VCR, and computer in his sports bag. They drove. And they drove. Even Aunt Petunia didn't dare ask where they were going. Every now and then Uncle Vernon would take a sharp turn and drive in the opposite direction for a while. "Shake'em off... shake 'em off," he would mutter whenever he did this.

They didn't stop to eat or drink all day. By nightfall Dudley was howling. He'd never had such a bad day in his life. He was hungry, he'd missed five television programs he'd wanted to see, and he'd never gone so long without blowing up an alien on his computer. Uncle Vernon stopped at a shop and went inside, when he came back out he was smiling. He was also carrying a long, thin package and didn't answer Aunt Petunia when she asked what he'd bought.

"Found the perfect place!" he said. "Come on! Everyone out!"

It was very cold outside the car. Uncle Vernon was pointing at what looked like a large rock way out at sea. Perched on top of the rock was the most miserable little shack you could imagine. One thing was certain, there was no television in there.

"Storm forecast for tonight!" said Uncle Vernon gleefully, clapping his hands together.

"And this gentleman's kindly agreed to lend us his boat!"

A toothless old man came ambling up to them, pointing, with a rather wicked grin, at an old rowboat bobbing in the iron-gray water below them.

"I've already got us some rations," said Uncle Vernon, "so all aboard!" It was freezing in the boat. Icy sea spray and rain crept down their necks and a chilly wind whipped their faces. After what seemed like hours they reached the rock, where Uncle Vernon, slipping and sliding, led the way to the broken-down house.

The inside was horrible; it smelled strongly of seaweed, the wind whistled through the gaps in the wooden walls, and the fireplace was damp and empty. There were only two rooms.

Uncle Vernon's rations turned out to be a bag of chips each and four bananas. He tried to start a fire but the empty chip bags just smoked and shriveled up.

"Could do with some of those letters now, eh?" he said cheerfully.

He was in a very good mood. Obviously he thought nobody stood a chance of reaching them here in a storm to deliver mail. Harry privately agreed, though the thought didn't cheer him up at all.

As night fell, the promised storm blew up around them. Spray from the high waves splattered the walls of the hut and a fierce wind rattled the filthy windows. Aunt Petunia found a few moldy blankets in the second room and made up a bed for Dudley on the moth-eaten sofa. She and Uncle Vernon went off to the lumpy bed next door, and Harry was left to find the softest bit of floor he could and to curl up under the thinnest,

most ragged blanket.

The storm raged more and more ferociously as the night went on. Harry couldn't sleep. He shivered and turned over, trying to get comfortable, his stomach rumbling with hunger. Dudley's snores were drowned by the low rolls of thunder that started near midnight. The lighted dial of Dudley's watch, which was dangling over the edge of the sofa on his fat wrist, told Harry he'd be eleven in ten minutes' time.

He lay and watched his birthday tick nearer, wondering if the Dursleys would remember at all, wondering where the letter writer was now. Five minutes to go. Harry heard something creak outside. He hoped the roof wasn't going to fall in, although he might be warmer if it did.

Four minutes to go. Maybe the house in Privet Drive would be so full of letters when they got back that he'd be able to steal one somehow. Three minutes to go. Was that the sea, slapping hard on the rock like that? And (two minutes to go) what was that funny crunching noise? Was the rock crumbling into the sea? One minute to go and he'd be eleven. Thirty seconds... twenty ... ten... nine -- maybe he'd wake Dudley up, just to annoy him -- three... two... one...

**BOOM.**

The whole shack shivered and Harry sat bolt upright, staring at the door. Someone was outside, knocking to come in.

**BOOM. **

They knocked again. Dudley jerked awake. "Where's the cannon?" he said stupidly.

There was a crash behind them and Uncle Vernon came skidding into the room. He was holding a rifle in his hands -- now they knew what had been in the long, thin package he had brought with them.

"Who's there?" he shouted. "I warn you -- I'm armed!"

There was a pause. Then –

**SMASH!**

The door was hit with such force that it swung clean off its hinges and with a deafening crash landed flat on the floor. A giant of a man was standing in the doorway. His face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but you could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles under all the hair.

The giant squeezed his way into the hut, stooping so that his head just brushed the ceiling. He bent down, picked up the door, and fitted it easily back into its frame. The noise of the storm outside dropped a little. He turned to look at them all.

"Couldn't make us a cup o' tea, could yeh? It's not been an easy journey..."

He strode over to the sofa where Dudley sat frozen with fear.

"Budge up, yeh great lump," said the stranger.

Dudley squeaked and ran to hide behind his mother, who was crouching, terrified, behind Uncle Vernon.

"An' here's Harry!" said the giant.

Harry looked up into the fierce, wild, shadowy face and saw that the beetle eyes were crinkled in a smile.

"Las' time I saw you, you was only a baby," said the giant. "Yeh look a lot like yet dad, but yeh've got yet mom's eyes."

Uncle Vernon made a funny rasping noise.

I demand that you leave at once, sit!" he said. "You are breaking and entering!"

"Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune," said the giant; he reached over the back of the sofa, jerked the gun out of Uncle Vernon's hands, bent it into a knot as easily as if it had been made of rubber, and threw it into a corner of the room.

Uncle Vernon made another funny noise, like a mouse being trodden on.

"Anyway -- Harry," said the giant, turning his back on the Dursleys, "a very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here -- I mighta sat on it at some point, but it'll taste all right."

From an inside pocket of his black overcoat he pulled a slightly squashed box. Harry opened it with trembling fingers. Inside was a large, sticky chocolate cake with Happy Birthday Harry written on it in green icing.

Harry looked up at the giant. He meant to say thank you, but the words got lost on the way to his mouth, and what he said instead was, "Who are you?"

The giant chuckled.

"True, I haven't introduced meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts."

He held out an enormous hand and shook Harry's whole arm. "What about that tea then, eh?" he said, rubbing his hands together.

"I'd not say no ter summat stronger if yeh've got it, mind."

His eyes fell on the empty grate with the shriveled chip bags in it and he snorted. Pointed his umbrella at the fireplace and three small fireballs shot into it from the tip, soon there was a roaring fire there.

It filled the whole damp hut with flickering light and Harry felt the warmth wash over him as though he'd sunk into a hot bath. The giant sat back down on the sofa, which sagged under his weight.

Finally, as nobody seemed about to explain anything, he said, "I'm sorry, but I still don't really know who you are."

The giant took a gulp of tea and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Call me Hagrid," he said, "everyone does. An' like I told yeh, I'm Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts -- yeh'll know all about Hogwarts, o' course.

"Er -- no," said Harry.

Hagrid looked shocked.

"Sorry," Harry said quickly not wanting to be beaten for his mistake.

"Sony?" barked Hagrid, turning to stare at the Dursleys, who shrank back into the shadows. "It' s them as should be sorry! I knew yeh weren't gettin' yer letters but I never thought yeh wouldn't even know abou' Hogwarts, fer cryin' out loud! Did yeh never wonder where yet parents learned it all?"

"All what?" asked Harry.

"ALL WHAT?" Hagrid thundered. "Now wait jus' one second!"

He had leapt to his feet. In his anger he seemed to fill the whole hut. The Dursleys were cowering against the wall.

"Do you mean ter tell me," he growled at the Dursleys, "that this boy -- this boy! -- knows nothin' abou' -- about ANYTHING?"

Harry thought this was going a bit far. He had been to school, after all, and his marks weren't bad, after all whenever he'd brought home better marks than Duddley he'd been beaten worse than when his marks were at failing standard.

"I know some things," Harry spoke up. "I can, you know, do math and stuff."

But Hagrid simply waved his hand and said, "About our world, I mean. Your world. My world. Yer parents' world."

"What world?"

Hagrid looked as if he was about to explode. "**DURSLEY!**" he boomed. Uncle Vernon, who had gone very pale, whispered something that sounded like "Mimblewimble." Hagrid stared wildly at Harry.

"But yeh must know about yet mom and dad," he said. "I mean, they're famous. You're famous."

"What? My -- my mom and dad weren't famous, were they?"

"Yeh don' know... yeh don' know..." Hagrid ran his fingers through his hair, fixing Harry with a bewildered stare. "Yeh don' know what yeh are?" he said finally.

Uncle Vernon suddenly found his voice.

"Stop!" he commanded. "Stop right there, sit! I forbid you to tell the boy anything!"

A braver man than Vernon Dursley would have quailed under the furious look Hagrid now gave him; when Hagrid spoke, his every syllable trembled with rage.

"You never told him? Never told him what was in the letter Dumbledore left fer him? I was there! I saw Dumbledore leave it, Dursley! An' you've kept it from him all these years?"

"Kept what from me?" said Harry eagerly, wondering if the mystery of his scar was about to be solved.

"**STOP! I FORBID YOU**!" yelled Uncle Vernon in panic. Aunt Petunia gave a gasp of horror.

"Ah, go boil yet heads, both of yeh," said Hagrid. "Harry -- yet a wizard."

There was silence inside the hut. Only the sea and the whistling wind could be heard.

"-- a what?" gasped Harry.

"A wizard, o' course," said Hagrid, sitting back down on the sofa, which groaned and sank even lower, "an' a thumpin' good'un, I'd say, once yeh've been trained up a bit. With a mum an' dad like yours, what else would yeh be? An' I reckon it's abou' time yeh read yer letter."

Harry stretched out his hand at last to take the yellowish envelope, addressed in emerald green to:

**Mr. H. Potter**

**The Floor**

**Hut-on-the-Rock**

**The Sea**

He pulled out the letter and read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme

Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

Questions exploded inside Harry's head like fireworks and he couldn't decide which to ask first. After a few minutes he stammered,

"What does it mean, they await my owl?"

"Gallopin' Gorgons, that reminds me," said Hagrid, clapping a hand to his forehead with enough force to knock over a cart horse, and from yet another pocket inside his overcoat he pulled an owl -- a real, live, rather ruffled-looking owl -- a long quill, and a roll of parchment.

With his tongue between his teeth he scribbled a note that Harry could read upside down:

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

Given Harry his letter.

Taking him to buy his things tomorrow.

Weather's horrible. Hope you're Well.

Hagrid

Hagrid rolled up the note, gave it to the owl, which clamped it in its beak, went to the door, and threw the owl out into the storm. Then he came back and sat down as though this was as normal as talking on the telephone.

Harry realized his mouth was open and closed it quickly. "Where was I?" said Hagrid, but at that moment, Uncle Vernon, still ashen-faced but looking very angry, moved into the firelight.

"He's not going," he said.

Hagrid grunted.

"I'd like ter see a great Muggle like you stop him," he said.

"A what?" said Harry, interested.

"A Muggle," said Hagrid, "it's what we call nonmagic folk like them. An' it's your bad luck you grew up in a family o' the biggest Muggles I ever laid eyes on."

"We swore when we took him in we'd put a stop to that rubbish," said\# Uncle Vernon, "swore we'd beat it out of him! Wizard indeed!"

"You knew?" said Harry. "You knew I'm a -- a wizard?"

"Knew!" shrieked Aunt Petunia suddenly. "Knew! Of course we knew! How could you not be, my dratted sister being what she was? Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that-that school-and came home every vacation with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was -- a freak!

But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that, they were proud of having a witch in the family!" She stopped to draw a deep breath and then went ranting on. It seemed she had been wanting to say all this for years. "Then she met that Potter at school and they left and got married and had you, and of course I knew you'd be just the same, just as strange, just as -- as -- abnormal -- and then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you!"

Harry had gone very white. As soon as he found his voice he said,

"Blown up? You told me they died in a car crash!" he stated his voice seemed to be spitting ice into the room.

"**CAR CRASH**!" roared Hagrid, jumping up so angrily that the Dursleys scuttled back to their corner. "How could a car crash kill Lily an' James Potter? It's an outrage! A scandal! Harry Potter not knowin' his own story when every kid in our world knows his name!"

"But why? What happened?" Harry asked urgently.

The anger faded from Hagrid's face. He looked suddenly anxious.

"I never expected this," he said, in a low, worried voice. "I had no idea, when Dumbledore told me there might be trouble gettin' hold of yeh, how much yeh didn't know. Ah, Harry, I don' know if I'm the right person ter tell yeh -- but someone 3 s gotta -- yeh can't go off ter Hogwarts not knowin'."

He threw a dirty look at the Dursleys.

"Well, it's best yeh know as much as I can tell yeh -- mind, I can't tell yeh everythin', it's a great myst'ry, parts of it...."

He sat down, stared into the fire for a few seconds, and then said, "It begins, I suppose, with -- with a person called -- but it's incredible yeh don't know his name, everyone in our world knows --"

"Who? "

"Well -- I don' like sayin' the name if I can help it. No one does."

"Why not?"

"Gulpin' gargoyles, Harry, people are still scared. Blimey, this is difficult. See, there was this wizard who went... bad. As bad as you could go. Worse. Worse than worse. His name was..."

Hagrid gulped, but no words came out.

"Could you write it down?" Harry suggested.

"Nah -can't spell it. All right -- Voldemort. " Hagrid shuddered. "Don' make me say it again. Anyway, this -- this wizard, about twenty years ago now, started lookin' fer followers. Got 'em, too -- some were afraid, some just wanted a bit o' his power, 'cause he was gettin' himself power, all right. Dark days, Harry.

Didn't know who ter trust, didn't dare get friendly with strange wizards or witches... terrible things happened. He was takin' over. 'Course, some stood up to him -- an' he killed 'em. Horribly. One o' the only safe places left was Hogwarts.

Reckon Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was afraid of. Didn't dare try takin' the school, not jus' then, anyway. "Now, yer mum an' dad were as good a witch an' wizard as I ever knew. Head boy an' girl at Hogwarts in their day! Suppose the myst'ry is why You-Know-Who never tried to get 'em on his side before... probably knew they were too close ter Dumbledore ter want anythin' ter do with the Dark Side, tha' an yer mum was er _mudblood_ in his eyes.

"Maybe he thought he could persuade 'em... maybe he just wanted 'em outta the way. All anyone knows is, he turned up in the village where you was all living, on Halloween ten years ago. You was just a year old. He came ter yer house an' -- an' --"

Hagrid suddenly pulled out a very dirty, spotted handkerchief and blew his nose with a sound like a foghorn. "Sorry," he said. "But it's that sad -- knew yer mum an' dad, an' nicer people yeh couldn't find -- anyway..."

"You-Know-Who killed 'em. An' then -- an' this is the real myst'ry of the thing -- he tried to kill you, too. Wanted ter make a clean job of it, I suppose, or maybe he just liked killin' by then. But he couldn't do it. Never wondered how you got that mark on yer forehead?

That was no ordinary cut. That's what yeh get when a Powerful, evil curse touches yeh -- took care of yer mum an' dad an' yer house, even -- but it didn't work on you, an' that's why yer famous, Harry.

No one ever lived after he decided ter kill 'em, no one except you, an' he'd killed some o' the best witches an' wizards of the age -- the McKinnons, the Bones, the Prewetts -- an' you was only a baby, an' you lived."

Something very painful was going on in Harry's mind, his scar the only part that he liked about himself, and it was… _**evil**_?

Hagrid was watching him sadly.

"Took yeh from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledore's orders. Brought yeh ter this lot..."

"Load of old tosh," said Uncle Vernon. Harry jumped; he had almost forgotten that the Dursleys were there. Uncle Vernon certainly seemed to have got back his courage. He was glaring at Hagrid and his fists were clenched.

"Now, you listen here, boy," he snarled, "I accept there's something strange about you, probably nothing a good beating wouldn't have cured -- and as for all this about your parents, well, they were weirdos, no denying it, and the world's better off without them in my opinion -- asked for all they got, getting mixed up with these wizarding types --

just what I expected, always knew they'd come to a sticky end --"

But at that moment, Hagrid leapt from the sofa and drew a battered pink umbrella from inside his coat. Pointing this at Uncle Vernon like a sword, he said, "I'm warning you, Dursley -I'm warning you -- one more word... "

In danger of being speared on the end of an umbrella by a bearded giant, Uncle Vernon's courage failed again; he flattened himself against the wall and fell silent. "That's better," said Hagrid, breathing heavily and sitting back down on the sofa, which this time sagged right down to the floor.

Harry, meanwhile, still had questions to ask, hundreds of them.

"But what happened to Vol--, sorry -- I mean, You-Know-Who?"

"Good question, Harry. Disappeared. Vanished. Same night he tried ter kill you. Makes yeh even more famous. That's the biggest myst'ry, see... he was gettin' more an' more powerful -- why'd he go?

"Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die. Some say he's still out there, bidin' his time, like, but I don' believe it. People who was on his side came back ter ours. Some of 'em came outta kinda trances. Don~ reckon they could've done if he was comin' back.

"Most of us reckon he's still out there somewhere but lost his powers. Too weak to carry on. 'Cause somethin' about you finished him, Harry. There was somethin' goin' on that night he hadn't counted on -- I dunno what it was, no one does -- but somethin' about you stumped him, all right."

Hagrid looked at Harry with warmth and respect blazing in his eyes, but Harry, instead of feeling pleased and proud, felt quite sure there had been a horrible mistake. A wizard? Him? How could he possibly be?

He'd spent his life being clouted by Dudley, and bullied and beaten by Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon; if he was really a wizard, why hadn't they been turned into warty toads every time they'd tried to lock him in his cupboard? If he'd once defeated the greatest sorcerer in the world, how come Dudley had always been able to kick him around like a football?

"Hagrid," he said quietly, "I think you must have made a mistake. I don't think I can be a wizard."

To his surprise, Hagrid chuckled.

"Not a wizard, eh? Never made things happen when you was scared or angry?"

Harry looked into the fire. Now he came to think about it... every odd thing that had ever made his aunt and uncle furious with him had happened when he, Harry, had been upset or angry... chased by Dudley's gang.

---**Flashback**---

Once, Aunt Petunia, tired of Harry coming back from the barbers looking as though he hadn't been at all, had taken a pair of kitchen scissors and cut his hair so short he was almost bald except for his bangs, which she left "to hide that horrible scar."

Dudley had laughed himself silly at Harry, who spent a sleepless night imagining school the next day, where he was already laughed at for his baggy clothes and taped glasses.

Next morning, however, he had gotten up to find his hair exactly as it had been before Aunt Petunia had sheared it off He had been given a week in his cupboard for this, even though he had tried to explain that he couldn't explain how it had grown back so quickly.

---**End Flashback**---

---**Flashback**---

Another time, Aunt Petunia had been trying to force him into a revolting old sweater of Dudley's (brown with orange puff balls) -- The harder she tried to pull it over his head, the smaller it seemed to become, until finally it might have fitted a hand puppet, but certainly wouldn't fit Harry. Aunt Petunia had decided it must have shrunk in the wash and, to his great relief, Harry wasn't punished.

---**End Flashback**---

---**Flashback**---

He'd gotten into terrible trouble for being found on the roof of the school kitchens. Dudley's gang had been chasing him as usual when, as much to Harry's surprise as anyone else's, there he was sitting on the chimney.

The Dursleys had received a very angry letter from Harry's headmistress telling them Harry had been climbing school buildings. But all he'd tried to do (as he shouted at Uncle Vernon through the locked door of his cupboard) was jump behind the big trash cans outside the kitchen doors. Harry supposed that the wind must have caught him in mid- jump.

---**End Flashback**---

Harry looked back at Hagrid, smiling, and saw that Hagrid was positively beaming at him.

"See?" said Hagrid. "Harry Potter, not a wizard -- you wait, you'll be right famous at Hogwarts."

But Uncle Vernon wasn't going to give in without a fight.

"Haven't I told you he's not going?" he hissed. "He's going to Stonewall High and he'll be grateful for it. I've read those letters and he needs all sorts of rubbish -- spell books and wands and --"

"If he wants ter go, a great Muggle like you won't stop him," growled Hagrid. "Stop Lily an' James Potter' s son goin' ter Hogwarts! Yer mad. His name's been down ever since he was born.

He's off ter the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world. Seven years there and he won't know himself. He'll be with youngsters of his own sort, fer a

change, an' he'll be under the greatest headmaster Hogwarts ever had Albus Dumbled--"

"**I AM NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL TO TEACH HIM MAGIC TRICKS!**" yelled Uncle Vernon.

But he had finally gone too far it seemed. Hagrid seized his umbrella and whirled it over his head, "**NEVER**," he thundered, "- **INSULT**- **ALBUS**- **DUMBLEDORE** - **IN**- **FRONT**- **OF**- **ME**!"

He brought the umbrella swishing down through the air to point at Dudley -- there was a flash of violet light, a sound like a firecracker, a sharp squeal, and the next second, Dudley was dancing on the spot with his hands clasped over his fat bottom, howling in pain. When he turned his back on them, Harry saw a curly pig's tail poking through a hole in his cousin's trousers. Uncle Vernon roared. Pulling Aunt Petunia and Dudley into the other room, he cast one last terrified look at Hagrid and slammed the door behind them.

Hagrid looked down at his umbrella and stroked his beard. "Shouldn'ta lost me temper," he said ruefully, "but it didn't work anyway. Meant ter turn him into a pig, but I suppose he was so much like a pig anyway there wasn't much left ter do."

He cast a sideways look at Harry under his bushy eyebrows. "Be grateful if yeh didn't mention that ter anyone at Hogwarts," he said.

"I'm -- er -- not supposed ter do magic, strictly speakin'. I was allowed ter do a bit ter follow yeh an' get yer letters to yeh an' stuff -- one o' the reasons I was so keen ter take on the job "Why aren't you supposed to do magic?" asked Harry.

"Oh, well -- I was at Hogwarts meself but I -- er -- got expelled, ter tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped me wand in half an' everything. But Dumbledore let me stay on as gamekeeper. Great man, Dumbledore."

"Why were you expelled?" Harry asked curiously, still slightly anyoed that it had been this man who took him to _live _with the Durselys.

"Best be Off, Harry, lots ter do today, gotta get up ter London an' buy all yer stuff fer school."

"Lest you'd rather stay here?"

Sudenly Harry had a nasty thought "Um -- Hagrid?"

"Mm?" said Hagrid, who was fiddling with the toe rope attaching his larger boat to the rocks outside.

"I haven't got any money -- and you heard Uncle Vernon last night ... he won't pay for me to go and learn magic."

"Don't worry about that," said Hagrid, standing up and scratching his head. "D'yeh think yer parents didn't leave yeh anything?"

"But if their house was destroyed --"

"They didn' keep their gold in the house, boy! Nah, first stop fer us is Gringotts. Wizards' bank.

"Wizards have banks?"

"Just the one. Gringotts. Run by goblins."

"Goblins?"

"Yeah -- so yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it, I'll tell yeh that. Never mess with goblins, Harry. Gringotts is the safest place in the world fer anything yeh want ter keep safe -- 'cept maybe Hogwarts.

As a matter o' fact, I gotta visit Gringotts anyway. Fer Dumbledore. Hogwarts business." Hagrid drew himself up proudly. "He usually gets me ter do important stuff fer him. Fetchin' you gettin' things from Gringotts -- knows he can trust me, see.

"Got everythin'? Come on, then."

Harry followed Hagrid into the boat and lay down inside the small cabin.

"Try't get some sleep Harry, I'll wake yer in the morning when we get there."

"Why would you be mad to try and rob Gringotts?" Harry asked as he settled himself in the bed.

"Spells -- enchantments," said Hagrid, unfolding his newspaper as he spoke. "They say there's dragons guardin' the highsecurity vaults. And then yeh gotta find yer way -- Gringotts is hundreds of miles under London, see. Deep under the Underground. Yeh'd die of hunger tryin' ter get out, even if yeh did manage ter get yer hands on summat."

Harry awoke to a bump, a moment later the boat bumped again gently into the harbor wall. They clambered up the stone steps onto the street. Passersby stared a lot at Hagrid as they walked through the little town to the station. Harry couldn't blame them. Not only was Hagrid twice as tall as anyone else, he kept pointing at perfectly ordinary things like

parking meters and saying loudly, "See that? Things these Muggles dream up, eh?"

"Hagrid," said Harry, panting a bit as he ran to keep up, "did you say there are dragons at Gringotts?"

"Well, so they say," said Hagrid. "Crikey, I'd like a dragon."

"Yeah", thought Harry thinking of the great and noble creatures he'd heard about from some of the muggle books he'd read

"Wanted one ever since I was a kid -- here we go." Hagrid said agreeing with Harry.

They had reached the station. There was a train to London in five minutes' time. Hagrid, who didn't understand "Muggle money," as he called it, gave the bills to Harry so he could buy their tickets.

People stared more than ever on the train. Hagrid took up two seats and sat knitting what looked like a canary-yellow circus tent.

"Still got yer letter, Harry?" he asked as he counted stitches. Harry took the parchment envelope out of his pocket.

"Good," said Hagrid. "There's a list there of everything yeh need."

Harry unfolded a second piece of paper he hadn't noticed the night before, and read:

**HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY**

**UNIFORM**

First-year students will require:

1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)

2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags

**COURSE BOOKS**

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emetic Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

**OTHER EQUIPMENT**

wand

cauldron (pewter, standard size 2) set

glass or crystal phials

telescope set

brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad (familiars are allowed but must be registered)

**PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED**

**THEIR OWN**

**!BROOMSTICKS!**

"Can we buy all this in London?" Harry wondered aloud.

"If yeh know where to go," said Hagrid smugly tapping one finger to his nose.

Harry had never been to London before. Although Hagrid seemed to know where he was going, he was obviously not used to getting there in an ordinary way. He got stuck in the ticket barrier on the Underground, and complained loudly that the seats were too small and the trains too slow.

"I don't know how these Muggles manage without magic," he said as they climbed a broken-down escalator that led up to a bustling road lined with shops.

Hagrid was so huge that he parted the crowd easily; all Harry had to do was keep close behind him.

They passed book shops and music stores, hamburger restaurants and cinemas, but nowhere that looked as if it could sell you a magic wand.

This was just an ordinary street full of ordinary people. Could there really be piles of wizard gold buried miles beneath them? Were there really shops that sold spell books and broomsticks?

Might this not all be some huge joke that the Dursleys had cooked up? If Harry hadn't known that the Dursleys had no sense of humor, he might have thought so; yet somehow, even though everything Hagrid had told him so far was unbelievable, Harry couldn't help

trusting him.

"This is it," said Hagrid, coming to a halt, "the Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place."

It was a tiny, grubby-looking pub. If Hagrid hadn't pointed it out, Harry wouldn't have noticed it was there. The people hurrying by didn't glance at it. Their eyes slid from the big book shop on one side to the record shop on the other as if they couldn't see the Leaky Cauldron at all.

In fact, Harry had the most peculiar feeling that only he and Hagrid could see it. Before he could mention this, Hagrid had steered him inside.

For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut.

The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him, and the bartender reached for a glass, saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"

"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," said Hagrid, clapping his great hand on Harry's shoulder and making Harry's knees buckle.

"Good Lord," said the bartender, peering at Harry, "is this -- can this be --?"

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent.

"Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Harry Potter... what an honour." He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Harry and seized his hand, tears in his eyes.

"Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back."

Harry didn't know what to say. Everyone was looking at him. The old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out. Hagrid was beaming. Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Harry found himself being swarmed by people madly trying to shake his hand.

A pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching.

"Professor Quirrell!" said Hagrid. "Harry, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."

"P-P-Potter," stammered Professor Quirrell, but refusing to attempt to shake Harry's hand.

"c-can't t-tell you how p- pleased I am to meet you."

"What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?"

"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," muttered Professor Quirrell, as though he'd rather not think about it. "N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter?" He laughed nervously. "You'll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself."

He looked terrified at the very thought. But the others wouldn't let Professor Quirrell keep Harry to himself. It took almost ten minutes to get away from them all. At last, Hagrid managed to make himself heard over the babble.

"Must get on -- lots ter buy. Come on, Harry."

Hagrid led them through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was

nothing but a trash can and a few weeds. Hagrid grinned at Harry.

"Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh -- mind you, he's usually tremblin'."

"Is he always that nervous?" Harry asked cautiously.

"Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin' outta books but then he took a year off ter get some firsthand experience.... They say he met vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag -- never been the same since.

Scared of the students, scared of his own subject now, where's me umbrella?"

Vampires? Hags? Harry's head was swimming. Hagrid, meanwhile, was counting bricks in the wall above the trash can.

"Three up... two across he muttered. "Right, stand back, Harry." He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella.

The brick he had touched quivered -- it wriggled -- in the middle, a small hole appeared -- it grew wider and wider -- a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.

"Welcome," said Hagrid, "to Diagon Alley."

He grinned at Harry's amazement. They stepped through the archway. Harry looked quickly over his shoulder and saw the archway shrink instantly back into solid wall. The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop.

**Cauldrons -- All Sizes - Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver -- Self-Stirring -- Collapsible, **said a sign hanging over them**.**

"Yeah, you'll be needin' one," said Hagrid, "but we gotta get yer money first."

Harry wished he had about eight more eyes. He turned his head in every direction as they walked up the street, trying to look at everything at once: the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping.

A plump woman with red hair was outside an Apothecary, shaking her head as they passed, saying, "Dragon liver, seventeen Sickles an ounce, they're

Mad they should just say 1 galleon, its far to blasted expensive anyway…"

A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium -- Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. Several boys of about Harry's age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it.

"Look," Harry heard one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand -- fastest ever --"

There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Harry had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes,

tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon....

"Gringotts," said Hagrid.

They had reached a snowy white building that towered over the other little shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was - "Yeah, that's a goblin," said Hagrid quietly as they walked up the white stone steps toward him.

The goblin was about a head shorter than Harry. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, Harry noticed, very long fingers and feet. He bowed as they walked inside. Now they were facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them:

**Enter, stranger, but take heed**

**Of what awaits the sin of greed,**

**For those who take, but do not earn,**

**Must pay most dearly in their turn.**

**So if you seek beneath our floors**

**A treasure that was never yours,**

**Thief, you have been warned, beware**

**Of finding more than treasure there.**

"Like I said, Yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it," said Hagrid.

A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors and they were in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Hagrid and Harry made for the counter.

"Morning," said Hagrid to a free goblin. "We've come ter take some money outta Mr. Harry Potter's safe."

"You have his key, Sir?"

"Got it here" said Hagrid holding up a tiny golden key.

The goblin looked at it closely.

"That seems to be in order." The Goblin replied.

"An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore," said Hagrid importantly, throwing out his chest. "It's about the YouKnow-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen."

The goblin read the letter carefully.

"Very well," he said, handing it back to Hagrid, "I will have Someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!"

Griphook was yet another goblin. They followed Griphook toward one of the doors leading off the hall.

"What's the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen?" Harry asked.

"Can't tell yeh that," said Hagrid mysteriously. "Very secret. Hogwarts business. Dumbledore's trusted me. More'n my job's worth ter tell yeh that."

Griphook held the door open for them. Harry, who had expected more marble, was surprised. They were in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downward and there were little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward them. They climbed in -- Hagrid with some difficulty -- and were off.

At first they just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. Harry tried to remember, left, right, right, left, middle fork, right, left, but it was impossible. The rattling cart seemed to know its own way, because Griphook wasn't steering.

Harry's eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them, but he kept them wide open. Once, he thought he saw a burst of fire at the end of a passage and twisted around to see if it was a dragon, but too late - - they plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling and floor.

I never know," Harry called to Hagrid over the noise of the cart,

"what's the difference between a stalagmite and a stalactite?"

"Stala**g**mite's got an 'g' in it for ground, Stala**c**tite has a 'c' in it for ceiling" said Hagrid. "An' don' ask me questions just now, I think I'm gonna be sick."

He did look very green, and when the cart stopped at last beside a small door in the passage wall, Hagrid got out and had to lean against the wall to stop his knees from trembling.

Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Harry gasped. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze.

"All yours," smiled Hagrid.

All Harry's -- it was incredible. The Dursleys couldn't have known about this or they'd have had it from him faster than blinking. How often had they complained how much Harry cost them to keep? And all the time there had been a small fortune belonging to him, buried deep under London. He made a note to get his key from Hagrid before they left.

Hagrid helped Harry pile some of it into a bag.

"The gold ones are Galleons," he explained. "Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, it's easy enough. Right, that should be enough fer a couple o' terms, we'll keep the rest safe for yeh."

He turned to Griphook. "Vault seven hundred and thirteen now, please, and can we go more slowly?"

"One speed only," said Griphook with an evil smirk on his face.

They were going even deeper now and gathering speed. The air became colder and colder as they hurtled round tight corners.

They went rattling over an underground ravine, and Harry leaned over the side to try to see what was down at the dark bottom, but Hagrid groaned and pulled him back by the scruff of his neck.

Vault seven hundred and thirteen had no keyhole.

"Stand back," said Griphook importantly. He stroked the door gently with one of his long fingers and it simply melted away.

"If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they'd be sucked through the door and trapped in there," said Griphook.

"How often do you check to see if anyone's inside?" Harry asked.

"About once every ten years," said Griphook with a rather nasty grin.

Hagrid picked up a grubby brown package and tucked it deep inside his coat. Harry longed to know what it was, but knew better than to ask from his experience with the Durselys.

"Come on, back in this infernal cart, and don't talk to me on the way back, it's best if I keep me mouth shut," said Hagrid.

One wild and wonderfully fun cart ride later, for Harry and the Goblin anyway. Hagrid and Harry stood blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts. Harry didn't know where to run first now that he had a bag full of money. He didn't have to know how many Galleons there were to a pound to know that he was holding more money than he'd had in his whole life -- more money than even Dudley had ever had.

"Might as well get yer uniform," said Hagrid, nodding toward Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.

"Listen, Harry, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts." He did still look a bit sick, so Harry entered Madam Malkin's shop alone, feeling nervous.

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve. "Hogwarts, dear?" she said, when Harry started to speak.

"Got the lot here -- another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Harry on a stool next to him) slipped a long robe over his head, and began to pin it to the right length.

"Hello," said the boy, "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice.

"Then I'm going to drag them off to took at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

"Have you got your own broom?" the boy asked curiously.

"No," said Harry bewildered by these strange words.

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"No," Harry said again, wondering what on earth Quidditch could be.

"I do -- Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No," said Harry, feeling more stupid by the minute, then remembering the pretty snake on the envelope seal said hazarding a guess. "I'd like to be in the serpent house though."

"Slytherin?, all our family have been in Slytherin -- imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?" "yeah," said Harry, wishing he could say something a bit more interesting.

"I say, look at that man!" said the boy suddenly, nodding toward the front window. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at Harry and pointing at two large ice creams to show he couldn't come in.

"That's Hagrid," said Harry, pleased to know something the boy didn't.

"He works at Hogwarts."

"Oh," said the boy, "I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?"

"Yeah" said Harry speaking up again, "and its his fault Dumbledoor forced me to grow up with **mudbloods** – he said remembering the word that Hagrid said Voldermort thought muggles should be called –"

"Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of savage, lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed." The other boy commented.

Then suddenly he seemed to realise that Harry said he grew up with mudbloods.

"Hey wait did you say Dumbledoor forced you to grow up with _mudbloods_**?**" The boy asked surprised. There was a gasp behind him as he said the word mudblood as madam Malkin looked up in horror.

"Yeah," Harry replied, still angry about being left with the Durselys.

"Where are your parents then?"

"They're dead," said Harry shortly.

"Oh, sorry," said the other apologetically. "But they were our kind, weren't they?"

"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean, with the exception of my **mudblood** mother, it sickens me to think my veins are tainted with her blood." Harry replied firmly.

"I feel for you I really do, don't know what your Dad was thinking marrying a mudblood, at least if you marry a pureblood you children will be second generation Pureblood, after all I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you?

They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families."

"What's your surname, anyway?"

But before Harry could answer, Madam Malkin said, "That's you done, my dear," she seemed eager to get Harry away from the boy and out of her shop. Harry hopped down from the footstool.

"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," said the drawling boy.

As Harry walked out the door he nodded to the boy and stated, much to Madam Malkin's apparent horror, "The names Harry, Harry Potter."

The boy's eybrows went up but he smiled when Harry tilted his head and forced the scar to show as it began to glow green.

"…Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." The other boy replied, "Looking forward to seeing you at Hogwarts, Harry."

"and you Draco, Harry replied with a smile."

Glad to have made a friend, his first friend ever.

Harry was rather quiet as he ate the ice cream, happy to have made a new friend, even if he had to bad-mouth his mother to do it.

"What's up?" said Hagrid.

"Nothing," Harry lied. They stopped to buy parchment and quills. Harry cheered up a bit when he found a bottle of ink that changed color as you wrote. When they had left the shop, he said,

"Hagrid, what's Quidditch?"

"Blimey, Harry, I keep forgettin' how little yeh know -- not knowin' about Quidditch!"

"It's our sport. Wizard sport. It's like -- like soccer in the Muggle world -- everyone follows Quidditch -- played up in the air on broomsticks and there's four balls -- sorta hard ter explain the rules."

"And what are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?"

"School houses. There's four. Everyone says Hufflepuff are a lot o'duffers, but --"

"I bet I'm in Hufflepuff" said Harry gloomily saddened by the fact he probably wouldn't be with his new friend Draco Malfoy.

"Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin," said Hagrid darkly. "There's not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin.

You-Know-Who was one."

"Vol-, sorry - You-Know-Who was at Hogwarts?"

"bout'55 Years a years ago," snarled Hagrid, he didn't look very happy about the fact.

They bought Harry's school books in a shop called Flourish and Blotts where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather; books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk; books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all.

Hagrid almost had to drag Harry away from the border-line Dark Art curse books.

"I was trying to find out how to curse Dudley."

"I'm not sayin' that's not a good idea, but yer not ter use magic in the Muggle world except in very special circumstances, and yer shouldn't ter even been looking at dem dark arts books" said Hagrid stubbornly.

"An' anyway, yeh couldn' work any of them curses yet, yeh'll need a lot more study before yeh get ter that level."

Hagrid wouldn't let Harry buy a solid gold cauldron, either ("It says pewter on yer list"), but they got a nice set of scales for weighing potion ingredients and a collapsible brass telescope.

Then they visited the Apothecary, which was fascinating enough to make up for its horrible smell, a mixture of bad eggs and rotted cabbages. Barrels of slimy stuff stood on the floor; jars of herbs, dried roots, and bright powders lined the walls; bundles of feathers, strings of fangs, and snarled claws hung from the ceiling. While Hagrid asked the man behind the counter for a supply of some basic potion ingredients for Harry, Harry himself examined silver unicorn horns at twenty-one Galleons each and minuscule, glittery-black beetle eyes (five Knuts a scoop).

Outside the Apothecary, Hagrid checked Harry's list again.

"Just yer wand left - A yeah, an' I still haven't got yeh a birthday present."

Harry felt himself go red.

"You don't have to --"

"I know I don't have to. Tell yeh what, I'll get yer animal. Not a toad, toads went outta fashion years ago, yeh'd be laughed at - an' I don' like cats, they make me sneeze. I'll get yer an owl. All the kids want owls, they're dead useful, carry yer mail an' everythin'."

Twenty minutes later, they left Eeylops Owl Emporium, which had been dark and full of rustling and flickering, jewel-bright eyes. Harry now carried a large cage that held a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing.

He couldn't stop stammering his thanks, sounding just like Professor Quirrell.

"Don' mention it," said Hagrid gruffly.

"Don' expect you've had a lotta presents from them Dursleys. Just Ollivanders left now - only place fer wands, Ollivanders, and yeh gotta have the best wand."

A magic wand... this was what Harry had been really looking forward to. The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read:

**Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.**

A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window. A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair that Hagrid sat on to wait.

Harry felt strangely as though he had entered a very strict library; he swallowed a lot of new questions that had just occurred to him and looked instead at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling.

For some reason, the back of his neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Harry jumped. Hagrid must have jumped, too, because there was a loud crunching noise and he got quickly off the spindly chair.

An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

"Hello," said Harry awkwardly.

"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter."

It wasn't a question. "You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."

Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Harry. Harry wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy.

"Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches, Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it -- it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."

Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he and Harry were almost nose to nose. Harry could see himself reflected in those misty eyes.

"And that's where..."

Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harry's forehead with a long, white finger.

"I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly.

"Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands... well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do...."

"Well, now Mr. Potter. Let me see." He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket.

"Which is your wand arm?"

"Er -- well, I'm right-handed," said Harry.

"Hold out your arm. That's it." He measured Harry from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons.

No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with

another wizard's wand."

Harry suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring between his nostrils, was doing this on its own. Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.

"That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Eight inches. Nice and flexible. just take it and give it a wave."

Harry took the wand and (feeling foolish) waved it around a bit 6 boxes to the right of him burst into flame, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once, waving his own wand to dull the flames.

"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try --"

Harry tried -- but it to was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander as it caused a roe jar to shatter.

"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere -- I wonder, now - - yes, why not -- unusual combination -- holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Harry took the wand. The second his fingers had finished closing around the wand Josh's voice sounded in his mind his scar flashed green and a powerful blast of green light shot out of the wand missing Mr. Ollivander by inches.

Hagrid and Mr. Ollivander stood in shocked silence, before Mr. Ollivander began to speak cautiously to the room at large.

"Well, well, well... how curious... how very curious..."

He put Harry's wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering.

"Curious... curious…"

"Sorry," said Harry, "but what's curious?"

Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather -- just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother why, its brother gave you that scar."

Harry looked admiringly at his new wand's box.

"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember.... I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter.... After all, **He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named** did great things -- _terrible_, yes, but **great**."

As Harry departed the store with a nervous Hagrid close on his heels he thought back to what Josh had said...

"**Here I shall Rule**!" and wondered what it could mean.

(A/N this is the Revised Prologue, I've cut out lots of crap and re-written it with a lot more of my own ideas rather than borrowed from JKR)


	2. Chapter 1 Heading to Hogwarts

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Harry Potter and the Philosophers' Stone, J.K. Rowling does, I am not making any money off this fic, just having fun messing around with Harry Potters Life and inserting a friend of mine into the story.

The Here I shall Rule fic originally on this account I have taken off and replaced with this as I ran out of Ideas and just left it sitting there for months. Most of the prologue is similar to the JKR's first book with minor notable changes. Enjoy people and to my close friends may you laugh at Josh's minor involvement as he attempts to corrupt Harry into inciting chaos.

**Note**: I have re-written the Prologue and now Chapter 1 and shortened them down due to a review by **World **hopefully a brief summary glossing over the details anyone who reads HPFF should know would be a better use of this chapters time, but I would again like to point out that I only started this to begin with as a bit of fun that a friend and I had a competition over, who could write the most amusing, well for lack of a better context Mary-sue fic but instead of inserting ourselves into the stories we inserted each other. This fic has evolved a little further than just that but I just wanted to say if you were interested in reading a good dark Harry fic I doubt this will ever be up to the standard you or even I like reading, needless to say I shall still try. Also I make a few references to possible crossovers while still in the Harry Potter verse. I apologise the updates have been taking so long but I keep having to go back over the chapters and fixing things, such as the format.

**Previously** on "Here I shall be God": Josh unexpectedly found himself in the World of Naruto, Naruto pissed him off and Josh managed to somehow absorb his PSP into his chest. He now has access to a lot of the powers the anime characters on the 2GB memory card had he has so far absorbed the basic powers of Tetsuo from Akira and Alucard from Hellsing.

Josh then destroyed the three main characters in the Naruto verse causing the entire Naruto dimension to collapse in on itself. He tried to arrive in the Negima verse but managed to fall half way into the Harry Potter verse instead he is possessing a corner of the horcrux in Harry and whispers to him in his dreams attempting to corrupted Harry enough so that Harry will free him.

Harry Potter and the Philosophers' Stone

CHAPTER ONE

HEADING OFF TO HOGWARTS

It was late afternoon by the time Hagrid escorted Harry back down to Diagon Alley, back through the wall, back through the Leaky Cauldron, now empty. Harry didn't speak at all as they walked down the road; he didn't even notice how much people were gawking at them on the Underground, laden as they were with all their funny-shaped packages, with the snowy owl asleep in its cage on Harry's lap.

Finaly they got to the train that would take Harry back to the Dursleys, Hagrid then handed him a shiny piece of paper.

"Yer ticket fer Hogwarts, " Hagrid said. "First o' September -- King's Cross -- it's all on yer ticket… See yeh soon, Harry."

The train pulled out of the station. Harry wanted to watch Hagrid until he was out of sight; he rose in his seat and pressed his nose against the window, but he blinked and Hagrid had gone.

---

Harry's last month with the Dursleys wasn't fun. True, Dudley was now so scared of Harry he wouldn't stay in the same room, while Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon didn't shut Harry in his cupboard, force him to do anything, or shout at him -- in fact, they didn't speak to him at all. The best part though was for now the beatings had stopped and he had enough time to read thorough his new school books.

He started with potions as he knew he wasn't allowed to do magic yet from what Hagrid had said and, Potions also sounded a lot like cooking which Harry had been forced to do ever since he was tall enough to climb onto the footstool and reach the stove.

He found the different ingredients and combined what they could create to be fascinating, he particularly liked the idea of brewing The-Draught-of-Living-Death and then tricking his relatives into drinking it. Then he could kill his relatives and not be tried for murder, maybe if he was lucky his relatives would be buried alive or taken to the coma ward in a hospital.

As Harry kept to his room, with his new owl, Hedwig for company, every night before he went to sleep, Harry ticked off another day on the piece of paper he had pinned to the wall, counting down to September the first.

He sent a letter to Draco asking if he could send a letter with Hedwig to see if it could penetrate the supposed "_Blood Wards_" that were keeping him safe from "_Dark Families_".

Draco had sent a reply so lased with sarcasm that Harry couldn't help him self and burst out laughing. The gist of what the reply had sad was:

"Thanks Harry, oh by the way my Dad's a Death Eater we're big supporters of the Dark Lord, you've just given us a way to find your house and kill you, I mean we hunt muggles and muggleborns there's no way we would forget to kill you in the process of torturing the mud that you are forced to share accommodation with."

Through all this Harry and Draco began to build up a friendship where Draco would claim in each letter with a written _bwuhhaahaha_ at the end of each letter that he had swayed Harry to the evil side of magic, this just made Harry like Draco's sarcasm even more. He was looking forward to seeing Draco in person and listening to his drawling voice proclaiming some of these things, it would be too funny for words.

On the last day of August he thought he'd better speak to his aunt and uncle about getting to King's Cross station the next day, so he went down to the living room where they were watching a quiz show on television. He had cleared his throat to let them know he was there but before he could say anything Dudley screamed and ran from the room.

Harry hesitated for a minute before asking cautiously:

"Er -- Uncle Vernon?"

Uncle Vernon grunted to show he was listening.

"Er -- I need to be at King's Cross tomorrow to -- to go to Hogwarts."

Uncle Vernon grunted again.

"Would it be all right if you gave me a lift?"

Grunt. Harry supposed that meant yes.

"Thank you."

He was about to go back upstairs when Uncle Vernon actually spoke.

"Funny way to get to a wizards' school, the train, magic carpets all got punctures, have they?"

Harry didn't say anything.

"Where is this school, anyway?"

"I don't know," said Harry, realizing this for the first time. He pulled the ticket Hagrid had given him out of his pocket.

"I just take the train from platform nine and three-quarters at eleven o'clock," he read.

His aunt and uncle stared.

"Platform what?"

"Nine and three-quarters."

"Don't talk rubbish," said Uncle Vernon. "There is no platform nine and three-quarters."

"It's on my ticket."

"Barking," said Uncle Vernon, "howling mad, the lot of them. You'll see. You just wait. All right, we'll take you to King's Cross. We're going up to London tomorrow anyway, or I wouldn't bother."

"Why are you going to London?" Harry asked, curious.

"Taking Dudley to the hospital," growled Uncle Vernon. "Got to have that ruddy tail removed before he goes to Smeltings."

Trying not to snigger at Duddley misfortune Harry left and went upstairs to pack.

Harry woke at five o'clock the next morning and was too excited and nervous to go back to sleep. He got up and pulled on his jeans because he didn't want to walk into the station in his wizard's robes -- he'd change on the train.

He checked his Hogwarts list yet again to make sure he had everything he needed, saw that Hedwig was shut safely in her cage, and then paced the room, waiting for the Dursleys to get up.

Two hours later, Harry's huge, heavy trunk had been loaded into the Dursleys' car, Aunt Petunia had talked Dudley into sitting next to Harry, and they had set off.

They reached King's Cross at half past ten. Uncle Vernon dumped Harry's trunk onto a cart and wheeled it into the station for him. Harry thought this was strangely kind until Uncle Vernon stopped dead, facing the platforms with a nasty grin on his face.

"Well, there you are, boy. Platform nine -- platform ten. Your platform should be somewhere in the middle, but they don't seem to have built it yet, do they?"

He was quite right, of course. There was a big plastic number nine over one platform and a big plastic number ten over the one next to it, and in the middle, nothing at all.

"Have a good term," said Uncle Vernon with an even nastier smile. He left without another word. Harry turned and saw the Dursleys drive away. All three of them were laughing. Harry's mouth went rather dry. What on earth was he going to do? He was starting to attract a lot of funny looks, because of Hedwig.

He'd have to ask someone. He stopped a passing guard, but didn't dare mention platform nine and three-quarters. The guard had never heard of Hogwarts and when Harry couldn't even tell him what part of the country it was in, he started to get annoyed, as though Harry was being stupid on purpose.

Getting desperate, Harry asked for the train that left at eleven o'clock, but the guard said there wasn't one. In the end the guard strode away, muttering about time wasters. Harry was now trying hard not to panic.

According to the large clock over the arrivals board, he had ten minutes left to get on the train to Hogwarts and he had no idea how to do it; he was stranded in the middle of a station with a trunk he could hardly lift, a pocket full of wizard money, and a large owl.

Hagrid must have forgotten to tell him something you had to do, like tapping the third brick on the left to get into Diagon Alley. He wondered if he should get out his wand and start tapping the ticket inspector's stand between platforms nine and ten, or if he should let Hedwig go to Draco for instructions.

However at that moment a group of people passed just behind him and he caught a few words of what they were saying.

"-- packed with Muggles, of course --"

Harry swung round. The speaker was a plump woman who was talking to four boys, all with flaming red hair. Each of them was pushing a trunk like Harry's in front of him -- and they had an owl.

Heart hammering, Harry pushed his cart after them. They stopped and so did he, just near enough to hear what they were saying.

"Now, what's the platform number?" asked the boys' mother, which Harry thought was odd according to Draco the platform number never changed. Hagrid must have been ordered not to tell Harry about it so that he would make friends with "_The Right_" people.

"Nine and three-quarters!" piped a small girl, also red-headed, who was holding her hand, "Mom, can't I go... "

"You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first."

What looked like the oldest boy marched toward platforms nine and ten. Harry watched, careful not to blink in case he missed it -- but just as the boy reached the dividing barrier between the two platforms, a large crowd of tourists came swarming in front of him and by the time the last backpack had cleared away, the boy had vanished.

"Fred, you next," the plump woman said.

"I'm not Fred, I'm George," said the boy. "Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? Can't you tell I'm George?"

"Sorry, George, dear."

"Only joking, I am Fred," said the boy, and off he went. His twin called after him to hurry up, and he must have done so, because a second later, he had gone -- but how had he done it?

Now the third brother was walking briskly toward the barrier he was almost there -- and then, quite suddenly, he wasn't anywhere.

There was nothing else for it, however Harry wasn't going to be manipulated that easily, while the plumb woman was talking to her last son, Harry approached the little girl.

"Hello, I'm Harry" Harry introduced himself politely to the girl who's mother was now fussing over her son making a lot of unnecessary fuss and talking loudly about Hogwarts and the platform.

Tilting his head to the side and letting his scar become visible taking a hunch that the girl was pureblood and would know who he was. He was correct in his assumption when she nervously answered back.

H-h-hello…M…Mr. Potter, I'm… G-g-ginny…W-w-weasley.." She managed to squeak out.

Harry smiled his most charming and innocent smile, "Oh please it's just Harry. I'm not going to be calling you Ms. Weasley now am I?"

"The thing is -- the thing is, I don't know how to get on to the platform, my guardians couldn't be bothered to tell me --"

"How to get onto the platform?" she said kindly brightening up as she realised that she could be of use to the great Harry Potter, no wait.. Harry as he had asked her to call him.

More confident know she spoke more clearly, "You just have to walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don't worry it's just an illusion you can't crash into it unless you're a muggle, Go on, go now before my _brother_." She practically spat the word looking disgusted.

"Thank you for you kind help, fair maiden" Harry announced, Owl me we can keep in contact this year and I look forward to see you joining me in Slytherin next year, Au revoir, mademoiselle"

He pushed his trolley around and started walking calmly towards the very solid barrier leaving a jaw-dropped girl with half her perfect Harry Potter, Gryffindor illusions shattered but, many dreams came through the hole and filled her with hope of a kind noble and just Slytherin, Harry Potter reforming the evil snake house.

As Harry passed through the barrier illusion he saw a scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts Express, eleven O'clock. Harry looked behind him and saw a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it. Amused at the hubub of movement Harry pressed on through the crowd until he found an empty compartment near the end of the train. He put Hedwig inside first and then started to shove and heave his trunk toward the train door. He tried to lift it up the steps but could hardly raise one end and twice he dropped it painfully on his foot.

"You know we did invent magic for a reason Harry?" drawled a very smug voice from behind him.

"DRACO" Harry yelled smugly drawing his friend into a hug that the blonde boy desperately tried to escape.

"Get off Harry!" Draco sulked as he tried to regain some of his dignity – unsuccessfully.

Then Draco flicked hi wand and spoke "Wingardium Leviosa" Harry's soared into the air and Harry pushed the still floating trunk into a corner of the compartment.

"Thanks," said Harry.

Harry sat down next to the window where, half hidden, he could watch the station and the students still getting on the train, Draco had gone to get his stuff and his assigned "bodyguards".

The train began to move. Harry looked up as the train rounded the corner. Houses flashed past the window. Harry felt a great leap of excitement. He didn't know what he was going to but it had to be better than what he was leaving behind. The door of the compartment slid open and Draco came back in, they talked about Hogwarts subjects what spell they thought were best and by the time the train had carried them out of London completely they were able to see that they were speeding past fields full of cows and sheep.

Suddenly there was a great clattering outside in the corridor and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door and said:

"Anything off the trolley, dears?"

Harry, who hadn't had any breakfast, leapt to his feet, Harry had never had any money for candy with the Dursleys, and now that he had pockets rattling with gold and silver he was ready to buy as many Mars Bars as he could carry -- but the woman didn't have Mars Bars. What she did have were Bettie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs. Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Licorice Wands, and a number of other strange things Harry had never seen in his life.

Harry looked up at Draco "anything in particular you want?" Not wanting to miss anything, he got some of everything and paid the woman eleven silver Sickles and seven bronze Knuts.

Draco stared as Harry brought it all back in to the compartment and tipped it onto an empty seat.

"Do those mudbloods feed you at all?"

"No" replied Harry, "They I've been cooking their meals since I was 4 years old."

Flabbergasted Draco began to suggest things his father could do to help make Harry's life easier, they had just got into a conversation concerning Draco's father becoming Harry's magical guardian when Harry unwrapped his Chocolate Frog and picked up the card. It showed a man's face. He wore half- moon glasses, had a long, crooked nose, and flowing silver hair, beard, and moustache. Underneath the picture was the name Albus Dumbledore.

"So this is Dumbledore!" said Harry furiously.

"Don't like Dumbledore then Harry?" Draco asked curiously.

Harry turned over his card and read:

**ALBUS DUMBLEDORE**

**CURRENTLY HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS**

Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling.

Harry turned the card back over and glared into the Dumbledore's face then concentrating on his scar he summoned all the magical energy from the card into his body, causing the card to shrivel up and burn to dust, satisfied Harry smirked at Draco's gob smacked face.

He had considered opening a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, but stopped when Draco warned him that they really were every flavour.

They chattered on about magic and blood stances for the rest of the journey, Harry was getting very interested in a _blood-cleansing ritual_ that would take all mudblood out of his veins and replace it with blood from a willing pureblood family when the compartment door slid open a girl already wearing her new Hogwarts robes.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said. She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth that made her look like a beaver.

"Whats your name?" Draco asked curiously looking her over in interest.

"I'm Hermione Granger, Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard -- I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough --, by the way, who are you."

She managed to say all this very fast.

Then Draco realised she was a mudblood, she was scatting on very thin Ice. But not one to make an immediate bad impression he introduced himself.

"Malfoy, Draco Malfoy"

"Harry, Harry Potter,"

"Are you really?" said Hermione. "I know all about you, of course – I got a few extra books. for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century.

"Am I?" said Harry, feeling dazed, Draco had mentioned he was in a book, not tons of them.

"Goodness, didn't you know, I'd have found out everything I could if it was me," said Hermione. "Do either of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad.... Anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's toad. You two had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon."

"Well that settles it, definitely Slytherin for us, if nothing else just to avoid that girl" said Harry irritably.

The began talking again Draco was explaining all about the famous games he'd been to with his parents and the broomstick his father would be getting him. He was just taking Harry through the finer moves that could be performed in the when the compartment door slid open yet again, but it was the redheaded boy Harry recognized from the station.

"You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort, like these Dark Wizard bastards, I can help you there."

"My Names Ron Weasley"

He held out his hand to shake Harry's, but Harry didn't take it. Already infuriated by the boys mothers, attempt at manipulating him into making friends with them on the platform.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort, are for myself, thanks," he replied coolly, while Draco sniggered in the back ground.

Ron glowered at them but left the compartment as a voice echoed through the train:

"We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

Harry's stomach lurched with nerves and Draco, he saw, looked even paler than before. Harry chuckled when he heard Draco adamantly repeating "Slytherin, Slytherin, Slytherin" under his breath.

Together they crammed their pockets with the last of the sweets and joined the crowd, people were pushing their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. Harry and Draco shivered in the cold night air. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and Harry heard a familiar voice:

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Harry?"

Hagrid's big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads.

"C'mon, follow me -- any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

They unwaveringly followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Harry thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much.

"Ye' all get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud "Oooooh!"

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black take. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harry and Draco were followed by a glaring Ron and an intrestead looking Hermione.

"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. "Right then -- **FORWARD**!" he bellowed.

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer

and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"**HEADS DOWN**!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbour, where they clambered out onto a path leading to a flight of stone steps, and began crowded around the huge, Gold engraved door.

Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

(A/N – hope this was an improvement, I know I glossed over his summer but I want to finish this book and get onto writing the next one, I'm going to have so much fun screwing around with the plot line for books 4 and 5.)


	3. Chapter 2 Harry's Sorting

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Harry Potter and the Philosophers' Stone, J.K. Rowling does, I am not making any money off this fic, just having fun messing around with Harry Potters Life and inserting a friend of mine into the story.

The Here I shall Rule fic originally on this account I have taken off and replaced with this as I ran out of Ideas and just left it sitting there for months. Most of the prologue is similar to the JKR's first book with minor notable changes. Enjoy people and to my close friends may you laugh at Josh's minor involvement as he attempts to corrupt Harry into inciting chaos.

**Note**: Sorry about the long wait, I apologise to the two Authors who added me to their alert lists, I shall not mention them by name for fear of embarrassing them, for being interested in this crap.

**Previously** on "Here I shall be God": Josh unexpectedly found himself in the World of Naruto, Naruto pissed him off and Josh managed to somehow absorb his PSP into his chest. He now has access to a lot of the powers the anime characters on the 2GB memory card had he has so far absorbed the basic powers of Tetsuo from Akira and Alucard from Hellsing. Josh then destroyed the three main characters in the Naruto verse causing the entire Naruto dimension to collapse in on itself. He tried to arrive in the Negima verse but managed to fall half way into the Harry Potter verse instead he is possessing a corner of the horcrux in Harry and whispers to him in his dreams attempting to corrupted Harry enough so that Harry will free him.

Harry Potter and the Philosophers' Stone

CHAPTER TWO

HARRY'S SORTING

Slowly with a huge creak the door began to open. The first thing that the first years saw was a tall, black-haired witch wearing red and gold robes. She had a very stern look on her face and Harry's first thought was that this was not someone he wanted to get on the bad side off.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid respectfully while slightly stating the obvious.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here." She answered looking over the assembled crowd.

Hagrid shuffled past her and into the entrance hall, McGonagall however continued to stand in the middle of the two doors, seemingly observing them.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," greeted Professor McGonagall.

"The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room." She began.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and _Slytherin_. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule breaking will lose house points.

At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours. The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron's smudged nose. Harry nervously tried to flatten his hair while Draco desperately looked in a pocket mirror to see if he looked ok, Harry resisted the urge to snigger at his friend as Draco – at this moment – resembled a very self conscious girl worried about her make up.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall.

"Please wait quietly."

She left the chamber. Harry swallowed.

"How exactly do they sort us into houses, again?" he asked Draco cautiously, as he couldn't for the life of him remember how they do it.

"Oh honestly Harry, they place a Hat on our head imbued with the essence of the founders and it sorts us on our personality traits" Draco replied with a role of his eyes, however they both stopped to snigger at what the red-head from earlier was going on about to anyone who would listen.

"My Brother Fred said it hurts a lot, because first they test our magic then we've got to fight a Troll." The red head continued who looked quite smug at being the centre of attention.

"Oh how does that work Weasley?" Harry queried, seemingly puzzled, meanwhile laughing inside at the absurdity of the red-heads comment.

Before Ron could reply Draco cut in, "Well its pretty simple when you think about it Harry, The Gryffindors, showing courage run full force at the Troll and get beaten back and injured, The Hufflepuffs, showing loyalty attempt to help the fallen Gryffs and remove them from the Trolls path, the Ravenclaws merely use knowledge to combat the Troll while learning what spells work against it and what don't, while the Slytherins, sensibly wait for the other houses to do the battle against the Troll themselves, before sneaking around it showing cunning and either stabbing it in the back or leaving it to feast on the Gryffindors?"

A lot of the other first years who had, had parents in one of the houses Draco criticized were starting to glare at him, but then suddenly something happened that made a few people jump as several others screamed.

"What the --?" Harry and Draco turned around then Draco laughed,

"What never seen a Ghost before mudbloods?"

About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying: "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance --"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost – I say, what are you all doing here?"

Another ghost wearing a ruff and old fashioned tights had suddenly noticed the first years. Nobody answered, unsure how to proceed.

"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them.

"About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

A few people nodded mutely.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you know."

The ghosts then turned and departed into the walls again, Harry was sure he could here Draco mumbling something on the lines of "Huffelpuff… Huffelpuff, he actually wanted to be in his house?"

The doors groaned open again and Professor McGonagall walked in again.

"They are now ready for you," said Professor McGonagall sternly as she swivelled and began to walk into the corridor. That is if you could call the entrance hall that. It was so big you could have fit the whole of the Dursleys' house in, in Harry's opinion. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors. They all cautiously followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Harry could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to in front of them -the rest of the school must already be here -- Professor McGonagall walked toward the doors and they open to admit her.

Harry had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Draco was looking right at home already although sneering at some of the red colours making out statues nearer the Gryffindor side of the hall.

Professor McGonagall led them up to the front of the hall were what must be the staff table sat. They came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them.

With the hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Harry looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars.

He heard the mudblood know-it-all whisper, "Its bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History." She seemed to think no one else had even looked in a book before setting off to Hogwarts.

Draco sneered at her for trying to inform him and Harry on things he probably already knew. Harry wondered what the point was having a giant skylight in the roof, it might just have an anti-water/snow charm on it and it could be the founders couldn't be bothered to build one and just claimed they'd created a magnificent work of art – Harry knew its what he's do just to see if he could get away with it.

If Draco hadn't brought him up-to-speed on basic magical effects he would have found it hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn't simply open on to the heavens, because the architects were to lazy to finish the roof.

Harry quickly looked down again as the strict Professor McGonagall silently placed a three-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. Apparently Draco had been right now all he had to do was hope it gave a quick introduction, and not start singing like some stupid tape player.

Noticing that everyone in the hall was now staring at the hat, he stared at it, too. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth -- and the hat began to sing: - Harry winced he knew he shouldn't have jinxed it.

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are true and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffis are true and unafraid of work no doubt;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

if you've an intellectual mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron whispered looking relived, though he winced as Draco raised on eyebrow at him and his ears went red before he turned to look anywhere else than Draco.

Yes, trying on the hat was a lot better than having to do a spell, but he did wish they could have tried it on without everyone watching. The hat seemed to be asking rather alot; Harry didn't feel brave or quick-witted or any of it at the moment the only thing he wanted to do was prove himself.

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moments pause

--

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at

the Hufflepuff table. Harry saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!" the hat shouted again as Terry walked, noise in the air towards the table.

The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.

" Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw too, but "Brown, Lavender" became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Harry could see Weasley's twin brothers catcalling.

"Bulstrode, Millicent" then became a Slytherin. Perhaps it was Harry's imagination, after all he'd heard about Slytherin, but he thought they didn't look really any different from the other houses. He was starting to feel that Dumbledore had definitely been trying to manipulate him into thinking all Slytherins were evil.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Sometimes, Harry noticed, the hat shouted out the house at once, but at others it took a little while to decide. "Finnigan, Seamus," the sandy-haired boy infront of Harry in the line, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.

"Granger, Hermione!"

The big teethed little mudblood almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head.

"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat. Ron groaned. As Harry and Draco snickered.

When Neville Longbottom, the boy who kept losing his toad, was called, he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville. When it finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR," Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to "MacDougal, Morag."

Draco swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!"

Harry applauded with the rest of the Slytherins drawing quite a few off looks from the rest of the tables and even a few odd glances from some of the Slytherins, Draco went to join his other friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself while saving a place for Harry.

There weren't many people left now. "Moon" "Nott" "Parkinson" then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil" then "Perks, Sue-Mary" and then, at last -- "Potter, Harry!"

As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"Potter, did she say?"

The Harry Potter?"

"Can you see his face?"

"Can you see his scar?"

The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat. He waited.

Hmm," said a small voice in his ear. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, A my goodness, yes -- and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting.... So where shall I put you?"

"Oh wait what's this…" Harry could feel the hat digging deeper it was pushing into Josh's being with out realising it – (A/N at this point Harry doesn't know who or what Josh is completely).

Harry gripped the edges of the stool and thought, Slytherin, please Slytherin.

"Slytherin, eh?" said the small voice. "Are you sure? You could be brilliant you know Grffindor would suit you well you could save many lives if you…"

The hat had finally glimpsed a fragment of Josh's mind, the horrors that it saw that Josh was imaging doing to this world, the girls he planned on corrupting, the people he planned on killing the genocide he had already planned for when he got bored. The hat glimpsed all this and thought it had seen Harry's inner plans. The evil presence was so overwhelming.

"**GET ME OFF HIS HEAD**!!!" "**GET ME OFF HIS HEAD**!!!" "**FOR THE LOVE OF MERLIN**!!!" "**MAKE IT STOP, MAKE IT STOP**!!!"

The hat screamed out loud as it desperately tried to pull its fabric off Harry's head, finally succeeding and falling to the floor.

For a second the hat panted on the floor it had fallen too while the whole school stared at Harry with curious horror, what could be in the boy-who-lived's mind that would frighten the sorting hat.

"**IF I WAS NOT BOUND BY A SECREACY OTHE TO NEVER REVEAL WHAT A STUDENTS MIND CONTIAINED, I WOULD INFORM THE ASSEMBLED OF YOU E…E…EVIL**!!!!"

"**NEVER IN ALL MY TIME AT HOGWARTS**…."

"**SLYTHERIN… SLYTHERIN…AND NEVER COME NEAR ME AGAIN**!!!" bellowed the hat.

Then finely hat slumped into silence as Harry stood shakily and marched over to the Slytherin table and sat down next to Draco.

Silence reigned the Hall.

#

(A/N Well hope that was interesting, I've tried a different style of uploading for this hope it works better, and makes stuff easier to read.)

(A/N2 I combined the book and the movie for their arival hope it was ok)


	4. Chapter 3 Dreams of Genocide

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Harry Potter and the Philosophers' Stone, J.K. Rowling does, I am not making any money off this fic, just having fun messing around with Harry Potters Life and inserting a friend of mine into the story.

**Note**: The Here I shall Rule fic originally on this account I have taken off and replaced with this as I ran out of Ideas and just left it sitting there for months. Most of the prologue is similar to the JKR's first book with minor notable changes. Enjoy people and to my close friends may you laugh at Josh's minor involvement as he attempts to corrupt Harry into inciting chaos. I wonder if Josh has ever met Eris? Sorry about the long wait, I apologise to the two Authors who added me to their alert lists, I shall not mention them by name for fear of embarrassing them, for being interested in this crap. – Also this is a revised version as I am redoing the story. I will go back and redo chapters constantly if the reasons in reviews are irritating enough, P.S if you flame me I don't care cause if I think it's a flame, I don't read it.

**Disclaimer 2**:I do not own Naruto or any minor ideas or phrases I may have borrowed, Naruto belongs to some other guy who's name I can't spell or pronounce. Live with it.

**Previously** on "Here I shall be God": Josh unexpectedly found himself in the World of Naruto, Naruto pissed him off and Josh managed to somehow absorb his PSP into his chest. He now has access to a lot of the powers the anime characters on the 2GB memory card had he has so far absorbed the basic powers of some Anime characters. Josh destroyed the three main characters in the Naruto verse causing the entire Naruto dimension to collapse in on itself. He tried to arrive in the Negima verse but managed to fall half way into the Harry Potter verse instead he is possessing a corner of the horcrux in Harry and whispers to him in his dreams attempting to corrupted him, Harry now has a permanent Oculmency shield around his mind thanks to Josh's evil presence.

Last time Harry's sorting took a twist when the hat mistook a piece of Josh for a corner of Harry's mind causing more chaos again.

[Language Types: Normal, _incredulous or sarcastic_, **Angry/shouting**, $_Parseltongue_$]

Harry Potter and the Philosophers' Stone

CHAPTER THREE

DREAMS OF GENOCIDE

(((((((((((((((00))))))))))))))))))

After Harry's turn in the sorting it had taken at least five minutes before they could resume, mostly it had been the Sorting Hats outbursts. Secondly it had been the fact the Boy-who-lived was sorted into the house of serpents, the noble lion cursed into the house that had turned out more dark wizard in recent history than any other house, the fact the hat had accused Harry as an Evil abomination probably wasn't going to help his or the houses reputation in years to come.

A slightly amusing part of his sorting (practically the only part) was the Weasley twins yelling, "Nooooo We haven't got Potter! We haven't got Potter!".

Harry, when looking at the staff table recognized Dumbledore at once from the card he'd gotten out of the Chocolate Frog on the train. Dumbledore's silver hair was the only thing in the whole hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts. Harry could hear the voice muttering in his mind "**barmy old codger**". Harry spotted Professor Quirell, too, the nervous young man from the Leaky Cauldron.

He was looking very peculiar in his large purple turban. He was talking to – Harry gasped – the most famous potions Master in the last two decades Potions High Guild Master, Professor Severus Snape. Harry couldn't believe his luck his head of house was one of.. NO the best potions Master in England.

When dinner began Dumbledore stood. He was beaming at the students in Gryffindor and smiling at the other houses but he gave a slight barley noticeable sneer as he looked down on the Slytherin table, spreading his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them there he began to speak.

"Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! "Thank you!"

He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered – save his fellow house mates who Harry was sure he could hear through their gritted teeth and fake smiles whispering, "Come on crack already, you're old enough go completely gaa-gaa already" Harry didn't know whether to laugh or cry for having such and moron as his Head Master.

"He's insane isn't he?" Harry asked Draco slightly uncertainly.

"Mad?" said Draco stunned. "He's a fucking interfering old coot! Powerful wizard but the biggest blood traitor and mudblood lover in the world! Chicken Harry?

Harry struggled to maintain his composure as the dishes in front of him were now piled with food. He had never seen so many things he would like to eat on one table:

roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs.

The Dursleys had usually starved Harry at any opportune moment when they could get away with it so apart from the care packages Draco sent him over the summer he'd never been allowed to eat as much as he liked. Dudley had always taken anything that Harry really wanted, even if It made him sick. Harry piled his plate with a bit of everything except the peppermints and began to eat. It was all delicious.

"That does look good," said the ghost covered in silvery stains that looked like blood morosely watching Harry cut up his steak,

"Can't you --?" Harry began before realising who he was talking to.

"I haven't eaten for nearly nine hundred and forty years," said the ghost. "I don't need to, of course, but one does miss it. I don't think I've introduced myself? The bloody Baron at your service. Lord ghost over The Noble and most ancient house of Slytherin here at Hogwarts." He spoke in a slightly gruff voice effectuating his gaunt face.

"As new Slytherins I expect you to behave with pride, and decorum. I hope you're going to help us win the house championship this year. Slytherin have one six years in a row now leaving the Gryffindors completely in the dust, last place each time. You _will _continue this streak if you know what's good for you.

When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later the desserts appeared. Blocks of ice cream in every flavor you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate éclairs and jam and chocolate doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, Jell-O, rice pudding -- " As Harry helped himself to a treacle tart, the talk turned to their families. Nearly every Slytherin was Pureblood. They seemed to be comparing who could trace their line back further.

"I am from the Noble and house of Bulstrode," said Millecent. "Our line can be traced back 34 generations."

"That's nothing," said a smug looking Theodore Nott. "_My_ families line can be traced back 61 generations, Theoadore Nott at your service" he drawled slowly.

"Malfoy, Draco Malfoy, 315 generations of Pureblood from the Ancient and most Noble house of Malfoy" Draco was assessing his worth. As the dinner went on it seemed that Draco's family was definitely the oldest and purest of the lines. Harry, thinking he was a half-blood felt a little inferior at all these talks on pureblood supremecy, as they went on and the others became more drawn up in their bragging Harry hoped it wasn't going to be like this all the time.

He heard rich laughter at the Gryffindor table, they seemed to be enjoying themselves, Harry let out a little chuckle as he saw one of the ghosts pull his head nearly completely of his shoulders, Harry stifled a snigger as the Weasely brat threw up over his food at the sight of the blood and gore from the nearly severed ghosts innards of his neck. Maybe Hogwarts wouldn't be so bad after all.

Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.

"Ahern -- just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. "First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to

all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the red-headed Weasley twins.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch."

He paused for a moment and a deeply serious look appeared on his elderly face.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Harry starred as did most of the hall.

"He's not serious is he, damn I knew he was mad but this is ridiculous?" Draco muttered to him.

"It's odd, your know because he usually gives us a reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere – the forest's full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that. I mean he hates us Slytherins at least but if it really important he does at least allow Professor Snape to inform us." Finished a disgruntled looking 5th year prefect, her gazed narrowed at Dumbledore as she spoke.

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore, a huge grin adorned his face. Harry noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed, as did most of the students.

Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.

"Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!"

And the school bellowed (minus anyone with even a segment of sense):

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

Teach us something please,

Whether we be old and bald

Or young with scabby knees,

Our heads could do with filling

With some interesting stuff,

For now they're bare and full of air,

Dead flies and bits of fluff,

So teach us things worth knowing,

Bring back what we've forgot,

just do your best, we'll do the rest,

And learn until our brains all rot.

Everybody finished the song at different times (again minus he ones preserving their dignity who had refused to sing. At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.

"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

The Slytherin first years followed the 5th Year Prefect from earlier through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. Harry's legs were like lead again, but only because he was so tired and full of food. He was too sleepy to care about the odd glances and frantic whispers that followed him as he aproched, to asleep to notice the glares given to him.

They descended more staircases, yawning and dragging their feet, and Harry was just wondering how much farther down under the school they had to go when they came to a sudden halt.

A bundle of walking sticks was floating in midair ahead of them, and as Percy took a step toward them they started throwing themselves at him.

"Peeves," She stated to the first years. "A poltergeist." She raised her wand and pointed it at the pile of walking sticks, "Peeves -- show yourself" she commanded.

A loud, rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, answered.

"Do you want me to inform the Bloody Baron what your doing?" She questioned.

There was a pop, and a little man with wicked, dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, floating cross- legged in the air, clutching the walking sticks.

"Oooooooh!" he said, with an evil cackle. "Ickle Firsties! What fun!"

He swooped suddenly at them. The Prefect shot a spell at him and the walking sticks, "Replusio" Peeves was catapulted back into the wall with a loud screech.

"You'll want to watch out for Peeves," she said, as they set off again. "The Bloody Baron's a threat to him so either threaten him or use these three spells 'Imobulus' to neutrilise what ever he's going to throw at you, 'Replusio' to throw him back and 'Protego' to protect yourself with a shield against anything he tries to do to you. Don't try reasoning with him, he won't even

listen to prefects or teachers."

"Now here we are"

They had stopped facing a portrait of a Serpent looking regally at them with its bright amber eyes, before she could say the password Harry whispered to it "$_beautiful_$", unaware his words came out as a hiss. The students around him looked on in shock. The snake turned towards him, startling the Prefect and hissed back $_A speaker, oh it has been so long. Welcome back little Master of Slytherin, welcome back_$. Harry continued his conversation with the snake for a minute asking about the house and its history and such the snake who apart from speaking to its brother snaked in other portraits had been cut off from human contact for so long it was glad to converse with him.

The rest of the house were still gaping in shock when Harry had finished his conversation, bewildered Harry looked at them for a minute before "Sorry for holding us up" he said sheepishly, I just wanted a chat.

"Tha… That's fine" stammered the Prefect looking on at him in awe. She regained her composure and then spoke the password which in all its Irony was "Parselmouth".

The portrait dissolved into nothing ness leaving a fancy hole in the wall with silver bracings around it. They all walked though it easily and found themselves in the Slytherin common room, a hard regal and majestic, circular room full of hardback chairs and a setae or two.

She directed the girls through one door to their dormitory and the boys through another. At the top of a spiral staircase -- they were obviously in one of the towers -- they found their beds at last: two beds per room four-posters hung with Emerald green, velvet curtains lined with embroidered silver. Their trunks had already been brought up. Too tired to talk much, they pulled on their pajamas and fell into bed.

"Brilliant isn't it, Draco muttered to Harry" through the hangings. "Oh and I wanted to ask you why didn't you tell me you were a Parselmouth?"

"I'm a what?" Harry asked looking at Draco bewildered.

"A Parselmouth, you can talk to snakes." Draco reaffirmed.

"I was just talking to it, you were there you heard me."

"I heard you speaking Parseltongue, you know snake language, it just sounded like hissing to us."

"I spoke a different language and didn't realise it, Hey that must have been how a set that Boa-Constrictor on my cousin at the Zoo once." Harry stated feeling as if the mystery was solved.

"You set a Boa on your mudblood cousin, nice one Harry" said Draco before he rolled over and went to sleep.

Feeling satisfied Harry fell asleep almost at once. Perhaps Harry had eaten a bit too much, because he had a very strange dream. He was wearing Professor Quirrell's turban, which kept talking to

him, telling him he must transfer to Hufflepuff at once, because it was his great destinyo be loyal to the light for all eternity . Harry told the turban he didn't want to be in Hufflepuff; it

got heavier and heavier; he tried to pull it off but it tightened painfully -- and there was The Durselys, laughing at him as he struggled with it -then The Durselys turned into the wrinkled old face of Dumbledore, whose laugh became high and cold -- there was a burst of green light, like the one Harry had fired from his wand that day in Ollivanders and Harry woke, sweating and shaking. He sat up and looked around he was sitting in front of a huge cell door.

"Come closer little one…" spoke a calm voice.

Harry felt like this was a bad idea but stepped forward, a second later he jumped back in horror, 7 long black and crimson spike had shot out of the cage and propelled themselves towards him.

"**JUST A LITTLE COLSER, LET ME RIP, LET ME TEAR, LET ME KILL!!!" **The voice screamed at him chilling him to the bone.

Harry turned and ran towards a red door he pulled it open and ran inside, he stopped when he saw what was inside. A taller version of himself with one red and one black pupil less eye was staring down across the valley, as an army ran towards his older self as well as broom flyers pelting spells down upon him he merely smiled and flicked his had, fire shot out of them incinerating the flyers. Giant cat like creatures completely engulfed in flames sauntered towards the troops before pouncing on them reducing them all to ashes. The older Harry turned to face his younger counter part and spoke in a cold chilling voice.

"**Here I shall Rule**"

Harry screamed and awoke with a start he rolled over and tried desperately to fall asleep again, when he finally did and woke next day, he didn't remember the dreams at all.

(A/N Replusio meaning to repulse/send away/throw away)


	5. Chapter 4 Classes, Duels and Quidditch

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Harry Potter and the Philosophers' Stone, J.K. Rowling does, I am not making any money off this fic, just having fun messing around with Harry Potters Life and inserting a friend of mine into the story.

**Note**: The Here I shall Rule fic originally on this account I have taken off and replaced with this as I ran out of Ideas and just left it sitting there for months. Most of the prologue is similar to the JKR's first book with minor notable changes. Enjoy people and to my close friends may you laugh at Josh's minor involvement as he attempts to corrupt Harry into inciting chaos. I wonder if Josh has ever met Eris? Sorry about the long wait, I apologise to the few Authors who added me to their alert lists, I shall not mention them by name for fear of embarrassing them, for being interested in this crap. – Also this is a revised version as I am redoing the story. I will go back and redo chapters constantly if the reasons in reviews are irritating enough, P.S if you flame me I don't care cause if I think it's a flame, I don't read it. – I'm too insecure like that. "sob… sob…"

**Disclaimer 2**:I do not own Naruto or any minor ideas or phrases I may have borrowed, Naruto belongs to some other guy who's name I can't spell or pronounce. Live with it.

**Previously** on "Here I shall be God": Josh unexpectedly found himself in the World of Naruto, somehow absorbing his PSP into his chest he gained some of the powers of the anime characters stored on it. Josh tested his new powers by destroying the Naruto verse. He tried to arrive in the Negima verse but managed to fall half way into the Harry Potter verse instead he is possessing a corner of the horcrux in Harry and whispers to him in his dreams attempting to corrupted him, with a permanent Oculmency shield around his mind thanks to Josh's evil presence. Thanks to this the sorting hat claimed him to be evil incarcerate. He was sorted into Slytherin with his best friend Draco Malfoy and his whole house knows he is a Parselmouth, now he must deal with not only the hatred from the other houses of being a Slytherin but the whole schools fear of him being practically the next prophesised Dark Lord.

[Language Types: Normal, _incredulous or sarcastic_, **Angry/shouting**, $_Parseltongue_$]

Harry Potter and the Philosophers' Stone

CHAPTER FOUR

CLASSES, DUELS AND QUICITCH

(((((((((((((((00))))))))))))))))))

"Hey look over there."

"What is it?"

"At the front of that group of snakes."

"Wearing the glasses?"

"Slimy Snakes."

"Did you see his face?"

"How could the chosen one be in Slytherin?"

"Did you see his scar?"

"I heard he used Dark Magic on the hat so it couldn't tell us what his evil plans were."

"I heard he's going to be the next Dark Lord"

"Hey, quite he might hear you."

"Come on lets get out of here…"

Heated whispers followed Harry from the moment he left his dormitory the next day. People lining up outside classrooms stood on tiptoe to get a look at him, or doubled back to pass him in the corridors again, staring. Harry would have liked Draco to be a bit more supportive but unfortunately Draco spent most of his time encouraging the rumours of him being a Dark Lord rising. Harry had to admit having 7th year Hufflepuffs running from him was amusing it almost made up for the ludicrous rumours and unpleasant comments he was subjected too as he walked down the corridors.

He wished they wouldn't, because he was trying to concentrate on finding his way to classes above the level of the Dungeons, he wasn't having much luck as there weren't any snakes on the walls that would help him with directions. Hogwarts wasn't so much a school as a gigantic maze filled to the brim with minor traps to secret passages and corridors filled with dangerous creatures that really shouldn't be allowed in the castle. He and Draco had already run into seventeen Doxy's already luckily using the Replusio spell they were able to drive back the miserable creatures.

The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other, when they weren't chatting or swapping rumours. Again Harry appeared to be the favoured topic for them, he had stopped to listen to one about talking frantically about it only being a matter of time before he would open "The Chamber of Secrets" once again before he was shooed away by a huge suit of Armour. The ghosts weren't very helpful either, apparently if Harry was powerful enough to scare the sorting hat then it was well worth staying far – far away from him. The only beings that would come near him were Mrs Norris the caretakers cat, Peeves the Poltergeist and The Bloody Barron.

Harry did enjoy watching the youngest red hair weasel, Ron managed to get on the wrong side of Filch when Harry asked Mrs Norris to trick him into running up to the forbidden corridor. Once he was there Harry warned the caretaker that his cat was being pursued by a first year who wanted to cause his cat harm, strangely enough Weasley ended up in detention. Due to the fact most students hated Filch for his rules and harshness for enforcing them he found an ally in Harry who was the only other person who Mrs Norris liked. With Harry's partial control over Filch's schedule it made Draco's attempt at consolidating his power as leader or next to be leader of Slytherin house.

Once they had finally managed to find the classes themselves. There was a less to magic than he'd thought there'd be, all it really involved was focusing your intent through a focus object and you could create anything if you had the power and the imagination to use it to the fullest. Words merely allowed you to focus you spells as your mind possessed your power, the magic could be used with out words but Harry found it required a lot more concentration.

Some of the lessons seemed pointless to Harry such as Wednesday Astrology lessons at midnight, they were a waste of time unless you wanted to grow your own ingredients for potions and needed to know the alignments that would help certain plants grow.

Three times a week they went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology, with Professor Sprout head of Hufflepuff, They took the class with the Ravenclaws so there wasn't that much that caused disturbances, Harry had been looking forward to Potions lessons with his head of house but now he was worried that the Gryffs would spoil it. Harry spent History of Magic create new formulas that would allow him to wield new spells, Draco didn't bother as it was easily the most boring class in the castle and slept threw it. Professor Binns continued to drone on even though 98% of his class were asleep the only two awake were himself and a snobbish girl from Ravenclaw called Marietta Edgecomb.

Charms was taught by the head of Ravenclaw house, the Professor Flitwick, the 50 year winner of the Masters Dueling championship, he was a tiny little wizard who reminded Harry of a very eccentric version of Yoda from the Muggle Star Wars films. At the start of their first class he took the roll call, and when he reached Harry's name he gave an excited squeak and toppled out of sight for a moment before levitating back up into view. Transfiguration was a bit of a let down Professor McGonagall began by teaching them theories that conflicted with Harry's own. Harry had been quite right to think she was biased against Slytherin's. Strict and refusing to accept the possibility of being wrong she was someone Harry was sure would block him at every turn testing his new skills and Theories. She seemed very disappointed that he wasn't behaving and acting like his father, she was even more disappointed he wasn't the perfect Gryffindor that she had been expecting to arrive in her house of noble lions.

First lesson of Transfiguration after a long and conflicting lecture on theories of using magic they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson,

only Hermione Granger had made any difference to her match using the standard method and Professor McGonagall showed the class how it had gone all silver and pointy and gave Hermione a rare smile. Harry had turned his match into a needle in only 30 seconds of receiving it, only hw had done it wandlessly and with out an incantation.

The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Professor Quirrell's lessons turned out to be waste of time. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which was rumoured he used to attempt to permanently ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. His turban, he told them, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome Inferi infestation, but they weren't sure they believed this story, the evidence of his current standing was against him.

When Vincent Crabbe asked Quirrell how he cleared up an Inferi infestation and what spells he used to get rid of it, Quirrell went pink and started talking about what lovely weather they'd been having. There were more people from Muggle families attending than Purebloods so the Slytherins were able to make fun of plenty everyday and not resort to picking on Harry even though he was under Draco's protection.

"What have we got today?" Draco asked Harry as he poured sugar on his porridge.

"Double Potions with the Gryffindors," said Harry.

"Oh good that means Severus will be teaching, I can't wait to see if it's true he treats the Gryffs like they deserve." replied Draco perking up immediately.

Suddenly a flock of owls descended from the rafters and spread out across the Great Hall depositing their mail to the students at large. Harry had gotten used to this by now, but it had given him a bit of a shock on the first morning, when about a hundred owls had suddenly streamed into the Great Hall during breakfast and begun dive bombing tables, though he had to admit watching a ancient old owl crash into Weasleys porridge splattering it all over his robes had been worth it.

Hedwig hadn't brought Harry anything so far. She sometimes flew in to nibble his ear and have a bit of toast before going off to sleep in the owlery with the other school owls. This morning, however, she fluttered down between the marmalade and the sugar bowl and dropped a note onto Harry's plate. Harry tore it open at once. It said, in a very untidy scrawl that the oaf Hagrid wanted to see him for tea this Friday at his hut on the grounds near the forbidden forest.

Harry considered and then decided he would try it, besides it wouldn't hurt to obtain more allies, besides anyone who had the sense to think Dragons were cute must be alright. Harry flicked his hand and conjured a blank piece of parchment with greens headers and footers with an animated snake crawling up and down the headers and footers spelling out the words 'Property of Harry Potter' he then waved his had over the parchment and thought about what he wanted to write. Emerald green ink appeared to be seeping out of the parchment until it formed the words Harry was concentrating on. Finished Harry waved his hand over the letter and it folded and an envelope appeared over the top of it with the Potter crest stamped on the seal before Harry passed it too Hedwig. As she took off Harry calmly resumed the consumption of his breakfast only to look up at the silence of the gob smacked Slytherins seated around the table, amazed and slightly terrified at the 1st years calm and almost lazy use of wandless magic.

"What?" Harry asked puzzled by the looks he was getting.

Some of the older students look like they were on the verge of fainting spells.

Draco merely slapped his hand to his head as Harry looked on puzzled.

"No really What?"

"Guys?"

"Okaaay… I'm gonna go get ready now." And cautiously Harry got up and left the hall, leaving his astonished housemates behind him.

(((((((((((((((00))))))))))))))))))

Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was usually colder here than up in the main castle but Harry had asked the snakes on the walls to turn up the heating a little, and they had obliged only eager to please their new master. Professor Snape had a wide collection of Potions ingredients that made Harry hope they hadn't had to being their own. Professor Snape might have been one of the three Potions Masters on the planet but that didn't excuse the fact that he was creepy as hell. Once he had finished calling the names he looked up at the class. His eyes were black and held little warmth only contempt.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but the class tensed to catch every word.

"As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses.... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death -- if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

More silence followed this little speech. Harry glanced at Draco and with raised one eyebrow, his friend looked completely enamoured with their professors speech. The Gryffindor, Granger was on the edge of her seat and looked desperate to start proving that she wasn't a dunderhead, it was laughable. Harry was caught of guard when their Professor snapped at him, probably for not paying attention to him.

"Potter!" "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood? Harry thought back quickly, second year material but easily remembered, it looked like he was right to read ahead, some of their Professors were going to want background knowledge in their subjects.

"When Asphodel is combined with an infusion of Wormwood they make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death, capable of sending the drinker into a state of stasis where they are nether alive nor dead.

Looking slightly surprised Professor Snape nodded.

"Very well, now where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Harry smiled for a moment before replying. "Well sir, if you needed one desperately the one I carry on my person at all times could be used." Harry stated, while reaching into his pocket and drawing out the bezoar that he paranoidly kept with him at all times. "Or if you wanted to find one for storage on your own you should take the stone from the stomach of a goat. As it will save you from most poisons I personally would suggest to everyone to carry their own as there may not be time to go to a goat get the stone to cancel the poison before dropping dead."

Professor Snape gave Harry an appraising look, before starting his last question. On the other side of the room the mudblood Granger was standing up with her had reaching towards the ceiling desperate to prove that she was not an idiot.

"What is the difference, Mr Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Thinking back Harry remembered that monkshood and wolfsbane were the same plant.

"They are the same plant, sir. They also go by another name, I'm afraid I can't remember what though sir."

Professor Snape was looking almost downright cheerful now, which on his face was kinda creepy.

"All correct Mr Potter, and you are right they also go by the name aconite."

"Now Why aren't you all copying this down?"

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Over the noise, Professor Snape informed them, "And 20 points to Slytherin House for your intelligent and accurate answers, Mr Potter."

As he turned around he spotted the Mudblood still standing ram-rod straight with her hand in the air. "Sit Down!" "You Silly girl, I have no time for time wasters or class-clowns in my laboratory, 20 points from Gryffindor."

Things continued to improve for the Slytherins as the Potions lesson continued. Professor Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Draco and Harry, whom he seemed to like. He was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Draco and Harry had stewed their horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. The Longbottom brat had somehow managed to melt Grangers's cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Longbottom, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?" Longbottom whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose. "Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Granger. Then he rounded on Weasley, who had been sniggering from behind him.

"You -- Weasley -- why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's 30 points you've lost for Gryffindor."

At the end of class Draco and Harry handed in a perfect potion vial to their Professor and then left happily as they had no more lessons that day. Draco was a little put out that Harry had arranged to go down to the gamekeepers hut but reluctantly agreed to join him. They left the castle and made their way across the grounds. Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the forbidden forest. When Harry knocked they heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. Then Hagrid's voice rang out, saying, "Back, Fang -- back."

Hagrid's face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open. "Hang on," he said. "Back, Fang." He let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black dog. There was only one room inside. Various animal carcases were hanging from the ceiling by ropes or hooks; a kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in the corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it. The walls were covered with various paintings of animated Dragons that were flying between each picture.

"Make yerselves at home," said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bounded straight at Harry and sat infront of him as Harry affectionately rubbed his head.

"This is Draco," Harry told Hagrid, who had begun to pour boiling water into a large teapot and putting rock cakes onto a plate. Hagrid didn't seem to notice as he kept – not so subtlety – glancing at a piece of paper on the table that had clearly been placed in view for Harry's benefit. Letting his curiosity get the better of him Harry picked it up. It was a cutting from the Daily Prophet:

GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST

Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown. Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day. "But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokes-goblin this afternoon.

"Hagrid!" said Harry, "that Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday! It might've been happening while we were there!"

Hagrid definitely tried to avoid Harry's eyes as he grunted and offered him another rock cake. Harry read the story again. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied earlier that same day. Hagrid had emptied vault seven hundred and thirteen, if you could call it emptying, taking out that grubby little package. Had that been what the thieves were looking for?

As Draco and Harry walked back to the castle for dinner, throwing rock cakes out into the grass as they walked, Harry wondered why Hagrid had wanted him to notice the cutting and if the package that Hagrid collected had been what the thieves had been after.

(((((((((((((((00))))))))))))))))))

Harry had never believed he would meet a group of people he hated more than the Dursleys or Dudley's gang, but that was before he met Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger. Still, first-year Slytherins only had Potions with the Gryffindors, so they didn't have to put up with the dysfunctional duo much. Or at least, they didn't until they spotted a notice pinned up in the Slytherins common room that made them all groan. Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday -- and Slytherins and Gryffindor would be learning together.

"Typical," said Harry darkly. "Just what I always wanted." "To make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of the Weasel."

He had been looking forward to learning to fly more than anything else. "You don't know that you'll make a fool of yourself," said Draco trying to cheer him up. "Anyway, I know the Weasel's always going on about how good he is at Quidditch, but I bet that's all talk." Smugly he continued. "I doubt his family can even afford and ordinary broomstick let alone a magical one."

The Weasel certainly did talk about flying a lot. He complained loudly about first years never getting on the house Quidditch teams and told long, boastful stories that always seemed to end with him saving his brothers from Muggles in their whirling machines. He wasn't the only one, though: the way most of the boastful Gryffindor told it they'd spent most of their childhoods zooming around the countryside on their broomsticks. This hadn't stopped the Slytherins from getting their own take in on how fabulous they were on their own brooms and what models that had. Nearly every male from wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly. Draco had already had a big argument with some of the girls in the common room, who couldn't understand the obsession with Quidditch that most males had. Harry was currently referred to as "The Sane One" for not indulging in heroic tales of himself and his brooms adventures.

Longbottom had never been on a broomstick in his life, because his grandmother had never let him near one. Privately, Harry felt she'd had good reason, because the brat managed to have an extraordinary number of accidents even with both feet on the ground. The Granger girl was almost as nervous about flying as Longbottom was. This was something you couldn't learn by heart out of a book -- not that she hadn't tried. At breakfast on Thursday she bored anyone she could with stupid flying tips she'd gotten out of a library book called Quidditch Through the Ages. Longbottom had been hanging on to her every word, desperate for anything that might help him hang on to his broomstick later, but everybody else was very pleased when finally the Weasel told her to shut up. Although Harry had thought it funny that she's managed to walk into three doors while trying to inform the other mudbloods how to stay on their brooms through out the morning.

At three-thirty that afternoon, Draco, Harry, and the other Slytherins strolled down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they headed down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.

The impatient Gryffindor were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Draco was complaining about them having to use the school brooms, saying that they should be allowed to bring their own. Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Harry glanced down at his broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles. He waved his hand over it and willed the broom to look like the Nimbus 2000 he had seen in the Quidditch Supply shop in Diagon alley, the broom shifted as it changed into a green and sliver coloured version of the Nimbus. Madam Hooch gaped in his direction for a minute before shaking her head and continuing to address the rest of the class.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!"

"UP everyone shouted."

Harry's new modified broom jumped into his hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. Granger's had simply rolled over on the ground, and Longbottom's hadn't moved at all. Perhaps brooms, like horses, could tell when you were afraid, thought Harry; there was a quaver in Longbottom's voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet firmly on the ground. The Slytherins all got a good laugh when the front of The Weasel's broom shot up and hit him full force in the face knocking him out. After sending him to the hospital wing Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Draco was furious when she told him he'd been doing it

wrong for years. Harry heard him muttering that it was a question of style as she wandered off to check the others.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle – three – two – "

But Longbottom, nervous, jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips. "Come back, boy!" she indignantly shouted, but he was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle -- twelve feet -- twenty feet. Harry saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and -- WHAM -- a thud and a nasty crack and he lay facedown on the grass in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher, until Harry flicked his had and beckoned. The broom shot back towards the group most of them ducked but Harry stayed stock still until the broom stopped a few cm's from his face. Harry nodded to the broom and then allowed it to drift to the ground.

While all this happened Madam Hooch was bending over the brat, her face as white as his. "Broken wrist," Harry heard her mutter. "Come on, boy -- it's all right, up you get." She turned to the rest of the class. "None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."

Longbottom, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him. No sooner were they out of earshot than Draco burst into laughter.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?"

Most of the other Slytherins joined in. Harry looked on passively not really intrestead in getting involved as he conjured himself a chair and sat down to continue his spell adaptation research.

"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Granger.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson, one of Draco's many admires, when he wasn't talking animatedly about Quidditch. "Well I guess Mudbloods have to stick up for Squibs, huh?"

Harry looked up curious, "Squib's Pansy?"

"Oh, sorry Harry, Squibs are born into Magical families without the ability to do magic."

"Ah, thank you for that, Pansy. I'll look into it." Harry calmly stated before going back to his research.

By the time Madam Hooch came back there was only two minutes left of the lesson so she dismissed them and let them go to dinner. Once they had arrived Harry had just finished informing Draco on a new spell he'd adapted, he's combined the Wingardium Leviosa spell for levitation with the summoning spell Accio to make "Levia" which could be performed wandlessly and required less target direction to work.

Harry and Draco finished their meal and left to go to the Slytherin common rooms when.

"Hey Potty, Mal-form." Spoke a whiny voice from behind them. "you think your all that, don't you well your not I can take you on anytime on my own,". It was The Weasel. Before Harry could even begin to think of a way to avoid or get him to bugger off Draco answered first. "Wizard's duel. Tonight, if you want. Wands only -- no contact. What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose Weasel, couldn't your family afford the wands for one?"

"Of course he has," said the pushy mudblood Granger, stubbornly standing behind him like an obedient dog. "I'm his second, who's yours?"

Draco turned and looked at Harry, "you mind?" he causally asked. "Not at all." Harry replied hoping this was the answer he was meant to give. Draco's nod back to him assured him it had been.

"Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked."

Once they left once they'd gotten out the door Harry turned and asked his best friend "Remind me what is a wizard's duel?" Harry asked. "And what do you mean, I'm your second?"

"Well, a second's there to take over if you die," said Draco casually, as they continued to walk down to the dungeons, catching the glare on Harry's face, he added quickly, "But people only die in proper duels, you know, with real wizards. The most you and Weasel would've been able to do would be send sparks at each other."

"What do you mean would have been able to do?" Harry asked curiously.

"Well were not going that's for certain."

"Why not?" Harry demanded, "I will not show cowardice to a bunch of Gryffindors, we will go and we will WIN!" "Got that."

"sure Harry" Draco whimpered under Harry's iron glare, as his eyes pulsed green.

"Harry woke Draco at Half-past eleven," "Time to go."

They pulled on their robes, summoned their wands, and crept across the tower room, up the spiral staircase, and into the Slytherin common room. A few embers were still glowing in the fireplace, turning all the armchairs into hunched black shadows, a few snakes slithering around on the walls hissing to each other faintly.

"Come on," Harry said to Draco. He pushed open the portrait of the Huge Snake and climbed through the hole. They snuck along corridors striped with bars of moonlight from the high windows. The snakes hissing hints and directions for Harry to follow and avoid being caught. They made it safely to the third floor and carefully made their way toward the trophy room.

The Weasel and mudblood weren't there yet. The crystal trophy cases glimmered where the moonlight caught them. Cups, shields, plates, and statues winked silver and gold in the darkness. They edged along the walls, keeping their eyes on the doors at either end of the room. Harry took out his wand in case The Weasel like the coward he was leapt in and started at once. The minutes crept by.

"Their late, maybe they've chickened out," Draco suggested to Harry.

Then a noise in the next room made them jump. Harry had only just raised his wand when the snake nearest to him hissed to him a warning, "$The caretaker and his cat are coming, leave now before they catch you our Master.$"

Quickly informing Draco they left the room they headed down a long gallery full of suits of armour. They could hear Filch getting nearer. Suddenly one of the suits of amour decide to take a midnight walk and walked into Draco, losing its balance it crashed to he floor. Quickly helping Draco to his feet the pair sprinted down the corridor they ran full tilt until they came to a stop at a huge locked door quickly Harry held out his wand and spoke "Alohomora!" The lock clicked and the door swung open -- they shot inside it, shut it quickly, and pressed their ears against it, listening.

Filch was speaking to Mrs Norris again "Quick, tell me, which way did they go my sweet?"

"That way eh? Well done my love." They both heard him moving away down the corridor.

"He thinks this door is locked," Harry whispered. "I think we'll be okay – What is it, Draco!" For his friend had been tugging on the sleeve of Harry's robe for the last minute while whimpering. "Fine what is the matter?"

Harry turned around -- and saw, quite possibly the cutest doggy he had ever seen in his life, it was obviously a Cerberus. For a moment, he was sure he'd walked into a wonderful dream -- this was too good to be true. They weren't in a room, as he had originally supposed. They were in a corridor, the forbidden corridor on the third floor. And now Harry knew why it was forbidden. Anyone could come in here and hurt the poor doggy.

Draco pulled the heavy door open shot out of it as the dogs head shot towards him and Harry, he had enough time to hear Harry bark sit at the dog before a whimper and silence. He realised that only he had escaped and left Harry to his fate but he was still to terrified to move. After a moment he realised he couldn't hear the sound of the monster ripping flesh from Harry's body so he cautiously opened the door a crack to she what was happening. As he gazed into the room his jaw dropped.

His best friend, Harry was sitting calmly in the centre of the room, stroking one of the dogs huge heads, while magically animating brushes to comb the dogs fur. Draco looked on for a few seconds before he could speak again.

"Harry.. wha…. What are you doing?" he asked astounded by the fact such a monstrous creature seemed to like Harry.

"Saying hello to Fluffy, isn't he cute?" Harry asked with a childlike innocence.

"Yeah… Cute…. Just what I was thinking." said Draco unsurely. Trying to focus back on the matter of hand Draco attempted to grab Harry's attention away from the monstrosity Harry was attending to.

"Look we need to go before Filch comes back, come on Harry"

"Oh, alright." Harry sighed gave 'Fluffy' one more pat and told the dog he would come and visit soon. They made their way back to the common room carefully. Once they were inside Draco voiced his question to Harry.

"What does Dumbledore think he's doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?" said Draco finally. "If any dog needs exercise, that one does." Strangely enough Harry seemed to agree with Draco at first until he finished talking.

"I agree, they should let him run free on the grounds, maybe put some protection spells on him so that students can't hurt the poor boy."

Draco stared at Harry before mumbling something and heading to bed, he was obviously not going to discourage Harry's mad association with dangerous creatures and he thought it'd be safer if he stayed far away from him while Harry played with them.

Harry shrugged and went to bed as he climbed under the covers he thought back to the trap door Fluffy had told him he was guarding, and as he thought about it he remembered what Hagrid had said on his first visit to Gringotts. Gringotts was the safest place in the world for something you wanted to hide -- except perhaps Hogwarts. It looked as though Harry had found out where the grubby little package from vault seven hundred and thirteen had been re-stored. The question was did he want to know what it was.

"**In time my child, in time…**" spoke the voice in his mind before fading completely as he drifted off to sleep.

#

(A/N I have put Marietta and Cho in 1st year making them born earlier in context for the story line as I am to lazy to think up a new character plot, don't worry though if I can kill her or Cho off before 5th year I WILL!)

#

(A/N2 Proffesor Flitwick being a Duelling champion is a borrowed idea, every good Harry Potter fic I've read has had some minor character changes at least and I always liked the Dueling Champion Flitwick making an appearance even if only to be killed by Harry but dying with honour and respect.)

#

(A/N3 Yes Snape is nice to Harry in this fic, well with in reason. He's mainly swayed by Harry's friendship with his godson but also by Harry's nature, he doesn't resemble his father in any shape or form.)

#

(A/N4 I've given Harry my own appeciation for cute creatures and yes I have been asked if I'm related to Hagrid for finding the Alien's in the Flim Alien "cute".)


	6. Chapter 5 Walkies

In regards to the end of my last chapter:

.net/s/4145459/6/The_Horror_The_Horror

I have just read (see above) I suggest it is a good read and worth it due to all the cute animals mentioned, thought the description of the Nundu doesn't do it justice.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Harry Potter and the Philosophers' Stone, J.K. Rowling does, I am not making any money off this fic, just having fun messing around with Harry Potters Life and inserting a friend of mine into the story, while hoping he will post his which I have only seen once since he started it.

**Note**: due to the one flame (if it can be called that) I have so far received (when I started writing this chapter) I am cutting down my rambles a bit in the notes and disclaimers, however the Previously bit stays as though I know it is completely pointless I like it as it gives me a chance to summarise what happened last time in the chapter and so I don't have to keep going back when I am writing the current to re-read my own stuff. Also this chapter is more of an Interlude and as such is relatively short, I intend to go back and improve it when I have a chance but I want to get on to writing about 5th year and so I might merge Cannon 2nd Year with Cannon 3rd Year, I' think it will be amusing if I can get Sirius's character right.

**Previously** on "Here I shall be God": A being known to all readers of this crap as Josh gains some anime characters powers, destroys a verse and ends up possessing a corner of the horcrux in Harry Potter. Planting whispers in Harry's dreams corrupting him slowly while forcing Harry's Slytherin personality to remain dominate. Witness Harry's adventures as he walks a path into Darkness, possibly to become the next prophesised Dark Lord.

[Language Types: Normal, _incredulous or sarcastic_, **Angry/shouting**, $_Parseltongue_$, **"T**Thought speech to Josh**T"**]

Harry Potter and the Philosophers' Stone

CHAPTER FIVE

WALKIES

The next morning Harry woke up bright and early, he couldn't wait to go visit Fluffy, he climbed out of bed, summoned his clothes wandlessly and dressed. Then he proceeded to bounce towards Draco's bed to wake him up.

"Draco." He said softly, the boy didn't even stir.

On another day Harry would just wake him up and force him to move, but he must still be tired from last night, so Harry decided to go on his own. He went down to the common room careful not to make to much noise and asked the snakes for a status report of outside (the portrait) activity. It seemed no one else was awake yet to he was able head up to the third floor, enjoying the greetings of the snakes as he went by. After a lifetime of pain and abuse from the Dursleys, Harry had rarely been complimented or greeted like he was someone special. It felt nice to be respected for a talent rather than something he could barely remember deflecting.

Harry had always liked the animals that most others thought were vicious, evil, cruel or disgusting. He used to associate that if they were called Freaks then maybe they were far-off relations to him. It encouraged him to look past appearances, but had slightly warped his sense of reality; of course having an evil Entity possess him probably wasn't helping the 'problem' very much.

He arrived at the door to the corridor easily enough and knocked lightly so not to alert anyone else nearby and then entered, Fluffy was very pleased to see him as he showed when one of the huge heads bent down and gave him a wet slobbery lick. The drool covered Harry's entire small body but was gone in a moment after Harry instinctively cast a wandless scorgifiy and then banishing charm. He proceeded to resume his conjuring of huge soft brushes and began to stroke the dog, after about half an hour Harry's arms were getting tired from all the waving to keep the brushes moving while simultaneously stroking one head after another, he had spent about 10 minutes on each head so far.

"Hey, Fluffy, I just want to try something relax will you?" Harry asked the Cerberus politely.

Harry concentrated on shrinking the large dog down to size and then thought minimize, a few seconds later a dog a little smaller than Fang was in Fluffy's place. But this arrangement made Harry worried, yes Fluffy was now manageable size but he could now be hurt even more easily by the students. He concentrated on a flame spell and focuses on temporarily transferring some of his magic in to Fluffy so he would be able to use it to power his new protections.

First Harry gave all Three of Fluffy's head's the ability to throw flames from their mouths, next he created a low level intent shield which he had designed from various runes found in his research, anyone who tried to touch/throw a spell at Fluffy with bad intent would have a minor version of a pain curse called the Cruciatus curse thrown at them from Fluffy's eyes, Harry didn't know how bad the curse would be (or at this point what it was) but he hoped it would teach them a lesson they'd never forget.

Casting a light disillusion charm on himself and Fluffy, he then escorted the dog out of the corridor and into the main castle. It was still pretty earlier so Harry managed to easily slip Fluffy past the few stragglers making their way blearily down to the great hall for breakfast. Once he reached the great hall he told Fluffy to stay, so he could fetch some bacon for the dog. Happy and the idea of food Fluffy waited patiently for his temporary master. Once Harry had sneaked a disillusioned bowl of bacon out of the hall he helped Fluffy down to the front doors to feed him and get ready for Herbology after breakfast.

All three of Fluffy's heads had just finished off the bacon when the first group of Ravenclaws arrived getting ready for classes, like the little smart-kids they were it was important to arrive early for most lessons, to make maximum use of their note taking time. Harrys attention was drawn to a rather pretty Chinese girl talking to Edgecomb, she was laughing at something her friend had just said, he couldn't understand why he was finding the girl so exotic then he had an idea he hadn't tried before.

He thought into his mind **"T**Josh?**T" **he wondered if he'd get a reply, the next thing he knew he was standing before a huge silver cage in which a young boy with long hair was looking out off.

"**T**Hey mister? wha-chu doing here?**T"**

Somehow Harry was unnerved by the being he didn't seem to be quite real, it was like he was their and yet. There was something wrong with his presence. Also the fact he was facing a giant cage in his mind was a little disturbing too.

"**T**I'm looking for someone, I think his name is Josh. Who are you what are you doing in there?**T" **Harry requested again, he didn't quite trust the child, in fact he wasn't sure it was really a child.

Ignoring his question the '_child_' began to demand Harry's assistance. **"T**Let me out, look the keys in your hand just let me out and I'll tell you mister**T"**

Looking down Harry found to his surprise a key was in his hand, he made no move however to walk to the cage and unlock it, he merely repeated his question.

"**T**Just give me the key and I'll do myself OK!**T"** the child was sounding less innocent and more like a very put-out adult ever minute, the eyes had also begin to flicker between red black and then back to the innocent child-like blue.

"**T**No. I don't think I should.**T"** Harry stated more sure of himself than ever now.

"**TGIVE ME THE KEY YOU STUPID CHILD!!T"** the entity screamed at him as it shifted where once their was a child their was now a monster, giant half formed bat wings wrapped in bloody chains tied through the creatures body to the cage holding it in place, a red cloak swishing in the non-existent breeze while dark spikes protruded from all angels across the back of the entity's being. Blood red eyes with a completely black pupil glared at him with absolute loathing as the creature drew itself up to its true height and proceeded to glare heavily at him again.

Trying not to react to intimidated Harry settled for a simple answer, he considered briefly asking "what's in it for me" but decided against it he knew it was very unlikely this creature would hold up its end of the bargain with out finding a loophole or twisting Harry's words, so instead he just managed to squeak out **"T**No.**T"** before releasing himself from his mind to find himself still glancing in the direction of the Chinese girl. Apparently while in his mindscape only a couple of seconds had past in the real world, so Harry nodded once to the girl before calmly turning away. Paying attention to Fluffy once again who had been whining lightly while nuzzling his hand by his side attempting to gain his attention.

"Harry, when'd you get down here?" came his best friends voice from behind him, as Draco approached Harry smirked and took off the faded illusion charms on Fluffy, it was very funny to see Draco jump back in alarm when he noticed all three of Fluffy's baring his teeth at him from Harry's side. It was even more amusing to see Draco's jaw drop open. He must be so pleased I found a way to get the poor doggy out of that corridor, Harry thought. In actual fact Draco was thinking exactly the opposite and trying to work out how to escape the situation as quickly as possible. The Slytherin girls who had now seen Fluffy and noticed the soft fur when into classic happy-girl mode and began stroking and cooing at how adorable the _tiny_ puppy was. Fluffy was certainly enjoying himself.

"Har..rr..ry t..th..the m..on..onns..t..ter, w..ha.. what have you done?" Draco managed to squeak out, making sure to keep his eyes on the now miniature-Cerberus.

"Oh its wonderful Draco I managed to rescue him from that horrible room, he was so lonely in there." Harry then began to talk about how it must have been horrible for Fluffy being stuck in that cramped room, Draco had the distinct impression the monster was snarling at him from behind Harry's back while at the same time looking slightly smug about everything.

Straightening up and making sure to keep Harry between him and the 'dog' Draco proceeded to follow the class of students heading out of the castle and down to the greenhouses. Harry was still in happy mode looking forward to Herbology. The lesson with Professor Sprout involved a great deal of upheaval, apparently Fluffy enjoyed digging holes to bury bones in the ground, but as he had no robes Draco's bag would have to do. By the end of the lesson Fluffy had uprooted half a dozen assorted plants and managed to succeed in burying 7 students bags before giving the offended parties a 'I could do no wrong' cute puppy eye look. Surprisingly Slytherin only lost 20 points all that were taken from Draco trying to defend himself from Fluffy's bag snatching endeavours.

--

At Lunch Draco finally got some peace as Theodore Nott had managed to convince Harry to take the 'dog' back to his room as it must have been tired after an exciting morning of fun. Harry had agreed not wanting to hurt the poor thing and had taken him back a few minutes earlier. Now they were both eating lunch while Harry chatted on about a new spell he'd tried. It was just another day in Hogwarts, but Draco hoped they wouldn't all be as 'exciting' as this one had been as he nodded to what ever Harry had just said and begun to pay attention once more.

--

Omake:

"Thank you for moving Hagrid's pet out of the way Albus it made adding my defence to the stone much easier, other wise it would have taken ages to levitate all those chess pieces down into the room."

Standing across the room Severus Snape sniggered when he thought about how Minerva would have found it so much easier if she had shrunk the pieces cast a weightless charm on them and used a broom to descend the trap door. The defences he had seen so far were so inadequate that a group of first years could get past them easily, he doubted it would take his true master much time to get past them while Dumb-bell-door was off hiding in his office pretending to be heading to the Ministry on a broom, when clearly he could have just used the floo network to get there.

Now how did Severus know all this, simple he had taken to the habit of reading the headmasters diary. Dumbledore wasn't very careful in his hiding of it, this gave Severus lots of insight in how to stay in the headmasters good books and still get away with as much as he wanted as possible. What he found odd was he didn't remember Dumbledore mentioning moving the beast so Minerva could place her chess set in the room, to avoid unnecessary work Severus began to sneak towards the door but he was too late.

"WHAT?!?" Dumbledore's scream of horror broke through the office as he desperately grabbed his wand and went to check if the stone had been stolen, leaving the actual stone on his desk while he madly rushed towards the direction of the third floor. Severus looked up at the headmasters flaming Turkey and then down at the stone sitting on the desk, just as he reached for it Dumbledore's scream of Severus froze his hand as he groaned and headed around going down to the third floor, he knew he should have just stayed in his labs today.

---

I had wanted to make this longer but am experiencing a writers block, I should have uploaded this a few months ago when I first finished.

As with all Chapters in this fic I will go back over them and upgrade them when I have done another new chapter, if you spot something really obvious point it out.


End file.
